


Maybe We're Perfect Strangers (Maybe We'll Stick Together)

by FallingLikeThis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Falling In Love, Famous Harry, I feel horrible about it, I'm using that tag but it's mostly allusions to past abuse, M/M, Non-Famous Louis, Slow Build, Slow Burn, basically Ed was a dick to Harry when they were together, brief mention of Niall but he's not really in this, it's actually pretty quick once Harry and Louis meet, sorry for the lack of niall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8363278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingLikeThis/pseuds/FallingLikeThis
Summary: “Ed Sheeran and Harry Styles are spending Christmas together,” Nick informs him, hands moving spastically in his excitement, eyes wide and smile manic. 
   Louis blinks at him. “It’s Christmas, Nick."   “And it’s your job, Louis. This is a huge story, Tomlinson. Think of it. Are Harry and Ed reuniting for good? Is it a romantic reunion or is it Friends and Lovers getting back together? And, Louis, I have it on good authority that we are the only ones with this tidbit of information!”    Louis sighs and drops his head into one hand, using it to massage his forehead and try to rid himself of the headache swiftly growing behind his eyes. He’s not going to win this one. He never does. “Where am I going?”   Or Louis works for a gossip site and, when it comes to light that ex-musical partners (and lovers) Harry Styles and Ed Sheeran are spending the holidays together, he's sent to see if the reunion the world's been waiting for is in the works. But at the cost of his own holiday with his family. Louis really hates this job.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DuchessKitty16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuchessKitty16/gifts).



> DuchessKitty16, I'm sorry this pinch hit took so long. I saw your story for your giftee and wanted to give you something of equal worth for your effort. I hope I did fairly well. This is isn't quite what you asked for but I hope you enjoy it anyway.
> 
> Special thank you to M, my good friend and the best handholder ever.
> 
> The title is from [Perfect Strangers](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ey_hgKCCYU4) by Jonas Blue (ft. JP Cooper).
> 
> A/N: As stated in the tags, there are some references to Harry and Ed's past relationship being emotionally abusive. Just a few comments about things that were said and Harry's reactions to some things. If you're worried, skip this fic or just wait until authors are revealed and I'll answer any questions you have on Tumblr. Whatever you do, please stay safe.

Harry watches quietly as trees and buildings blur past the windows of the town car he’s sitting in, excitement growing in his stomach the closer he gets to Holmes Chapel. It’s the first time in a long time that he gets to go home for Christmas and he can’t wait to see his family. His mum had cried when Harry told her he was coming and he’d felt guilty for missing the holidays with them the past few years. He’s had a career to build so it couldn’t be helped, but it still left a churning in his gut that he never wants to feel again.

Harry shifts the bags at his feet, checking through them for the thousandth time to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. He has so many gifts to lavish on his family. He’s not trying to buy their affections or bribe them into forgiving him for being away so long. At least, that’s what he tells himself. Hopefully, he doesn’t need a bribe for them to forgive him anyway. He thinks they all understand his absence. After everything that had happened with Ed… he’s sure they understand.

Just thinking about Ed Sheeran and how badly things had turned out, the light, happy feeling in Harry’s stomach turns sour. They’d been great together at first, both musically and romantically. Their first album as a duo had won them a Grammy and they were well on their way to finishing their second album when things had fallen apart. Harry still isn’t sure where it started to all go wrong. Ed had started distancing himself at home, then in the studio. Harry spent weeks, _months_ , walking around feeling like he was doing everything wrong. It was the harsh words Ed used when Harry made the smallest mistake in the studio (“ _Can you stop fucking up and get it right, just once?”)_ and the way he’d snap at home over the smallest things (“ _Stop fucking humming while you cook! I’m trying to write over here,”_ ) that had Harry reeling, feeling like he was constantly at fault for all of their failings. He’d had the presence of mind to get himself out of a bad situation and he’d broken up with Ed. So, naturally, the band had broken up not long after, Ed’s actions in the studio turning even more spiteful and petty. They hadn’t finished their album and they’d had to pay the record company restitution for the studio time they’d used and for breaking their contracts but Harry was certain it was better than sticking it out in a toxic environment.

Pushing thoughts of the past from his head, Harry reminds himself that everything is better now. He’s built himself a successful career as a solo artist and he knows Ed is doing well as a songwriter and producer. He certainly hears Ed’s name in the press often enough. But none of that matters right now. Harry is going _home_. He’s finally getting a much-needed break from the drama of the music industry. He breathes a little easier with each mile he gets closer to home, feeling the joy of seeing his family again settle into his chest once more as he smiles at the passing countryside.

*******

As soon as Harry’s car pulls up to the house, Harry’s mum, Anne, has thrown the door open and is waiting impatiently for Harry to get out and make his way to her, arms at the ready to pull him in and envelope him in her embrace. He doesn’t waste time, climbing out of the car and jogging over to her, squeezing her tightly in his arms and pretending the watering of his eyes is the product of how cold it is.

Anne doesn’t feel the need to pretend, wiping at her eyes when they release each other. “’Bout time you found your way back here,” she says, voice strangled with emotion as she slaps lightly at his arm, playing it off as a joke when they both know that it’s not.

“I know,” Harry says, giving her a sad smile and ducking in close for another hug. She’s his mum. He can hardly resist, can he? “Missed you,” he murmurs in her ear as he breathes in the scent of her. It’s the scent of nutmeg and fresh linens and _home_.

“Missed you more,” she replies, hand running over his hair, short now after he cut it off for charity several months ago. “Looks good,” Anne tells him, smiling through her tears.

“Thanks,” he says. He’s grateful that she doesn’t make a big deal about it. He’d loved his hair long but her lack of a fuss over it just reinforces what he’s been trying to tell himself; it’s not a big deal. His confidence may have went with it for a bit when he’d first gotten it cut but he’s bounced back. In the wise words of his fellow musician, India Arie, he is not his hair.

The sounds of Harry’s luggage being placed beside him, draws his attention away from his mum long enough for him to realize that Robin is standing behind her in the doorway. “Hey, Robin,” Harry greets, stepping up to hug his step-father hello as well.

“Hello, Harry,” Robin returns, voice full of fatherly affection as he squeezes Harry briefly before letting him go again. “I’ll take these to your room,” he says, bending for Harry’s bags.

“Oh, I can get those– ”

“Don’t be silly. I’ve got them,” Robin insists, toting them inside before Harry can protest further.

“Thank you,” Harry calls after him as he disappears inside the house.

“You always did have good manners,” Anne laughs lightly, reaching up to pinch Harry’s cheek.

“My mum raised me right,” Harry jokes, swatting at her hand playfully as his driver, Tom, places more bags next to him. _Many_ more bags.

Anne’s eyes grow wide when she sees them, and wider still when she sees Tom on his way back with more. “Are you planning to move back home?” She jokes, though Harry thinks he hears a wistfulness in her tone that attests to the truth of just how much she’s missed him.

“Sometimes I wish I was,” Harry tells her honestly, dressing the truth up with a playful smile. “But most of these aren’t for me.”

Anne sighs, she’s always been a bit difficult when it comes to accepting gifts from Harry especially knowing that he’ll spare no expense for his family. “You didn’t have to do that, love.”

“I wanted to,” Harry shrugs. He loves being able to give his family things.

Grinning resignedly, Anne turns to glance into the house before turning back to him. “Well, hurry inside, love. It’s freezing out and we have a lot of catching up to do. I’ll take some of these up to your room for you,” she says, bending down to pick up some of the bags.

“I will,” Harry promises, pointing over his shoulder with a thumb. “I’m just going to see Tom off and wish him a Happy Christmas.”

“I’ll get some tea started when I’m done with this” Anne says, gathering the bags she’s managed to grab and turning to go inside with them.

“Don’t try peeking!” Harry calls after her. “They’re already wrapped.”

His mother’s mischievous laughter floats back to him and he grins. It’s going to be a good holiday.

Honestly, the thought of hot tea warming him up is all too appealing to Harry and he nearly trips as he turns in his haste to let his driver off duty. He’s waiting unobtrusively by the car in case Harry needs anything else from him and Harry feels a bit guilty for leaving him out in the cold while he’s been talking to his mum.

“Alright, Mr. Styles?” Tom asks, ever the professional.

“I’m good, Tom,” Harry sighs reaching into his coat pocket. He’s long since given up on asking Tom to call him Harry. He finds what he’s looking for and offers Tom the stuffed envelope he pulls out. “Happy Christmas, Tom. Go home, have a nice holiday with your family.”

“Mr. Styles?” Tom questions, accepting the envelope but looking at it curiously, apparently not understanding Harry’s intentions.

“Consider it a Christmas bonus,” Harry says with a wink, patting Tom’s shoulder once. “Drive safe, Tom.”

It’s not until Harry’s nearly back to the front door of the house that Tom looks inside the envelope and nearly chokes at all the notes inside. “Thank you, Mr. Styles!” He calls to Harry’s back. “Happy Christmas!”

Harry grins to himself. Tom will actually be able to afford a flight home this year. Happy Christmas, indeed. Harry thinks it’s somewhat poetic that they’ll both get a family reunion this year. Heaven knows they both deserve it.

*******

“EEeeeeeeee!” Gemma squeals happily as her little brother greets her with a crushing hug when she arrives at her childhood home. She hasn’t seen him in so long and phone calls only get you so far when your best friend has been living on the other side of the world for the past three years.

“Hey,” Harry says, breathing into her neck while he holds her close. “How’ve you been?”

“Good,” Gemma sighs happily, squeezing him just as tightly. “Missing my baby bro, but otherwise, good.”

“I missed you, too,” Harry answers, pulling back and taking a good look at her. “You look great,” he informs her and it’s true. Her ever-changing hair colour is currently auburn and it looks rich and vibrant matched with her pale skin. Her cheeks are flushed pink from the cold and the excitement of coming home again and her eyes shine joyously with life. Last time Harry had seen her, they were both poor, wrecked versions of themselves suffering from heartbreak and loneliness. They’ve both gotten over the heartbreak and Gemma, at least, has found relief from the loneliness. Harry looks past her shoulder to see out the open door, searching for the boyfriend she’d said she was bringing home to meet the family.

“Where’s this mysterious boyfriend I’ve heard so little about?” Harry asks unable to hide the disapproval in his tone. Gemma had mentioned that she was seeing someone several times in their phone calls and emails but she never really gave Harry any details. He gets the frightful feeling that he’s going to disapprove of the man simply because Gemma thinks she needs to keep him a secret.

Gemma avoids Harry’s eyes as she answers, “He’ll be here later. He had some work to finish up. And before he gets here, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Harry studies his sister, standing there twisting her fingers together nervously and looking at her feet.

“Uh-oh. I’m not going to like him, am I?” he deduces.

“Um, well…,” Gemma hesitates but she’s saved from the conversation she obviously doesn’t want to have by Anne walking in and squealing when she sees Gemma home. Like mother, like daughter.

Harry backs out of the way as Anne smothers Gemma in a massive embrace, the uncomfortable feeling of dread settling like a raincloud over his head. He doesn’t know what could possibly be wrong with Gemma’s boyfriend that she could still like him while feeling the need to keep him a secret from her brother. It’s not just the uncertainty that has Harry turning and walking away from the happy scene of his family reuniting, it’s also the hurtfulness of the secrecy. He and Gemma don’t keep secrets from each other. At least, he _thought_ they didn’t.

Gemma had been the first person Harry had come out to when he’d realized he was gay. She’d held him and reassured him and given him the strength to come out to his parents. And, in return, Harry had been the keeper of all of Gemma’s illicit secrets. He’d never told about that time in secondary school when she’d snuck out to go to a party that their parents had forbidden her to go to. Or that time she’d said she was staying at her best friend’s house but they’d really gone to a concert in London. Harry had told Gemma about his dream of being a singer when he was sixteen and she’d been the one to talk him into auditioning for the X-Factor where he’d met Ed for the first time.  He’d told her about how he was falling in love with his friend and musical partner two years later and she’d encouraged him to make a move. All of his triumphs he owes to Gemma, and all of the detours past the roadblocks in her life, she owes to him. It hurts to think that their time of confiding in each other about everything might be coming to an end.

Harry goes up to his room and waits. If Gemma really wants to tell him what’s going on with her boyfriend, she’ll find him.

He’s texting his best friend, Niall, when she appears in his doorway.

“Where did my insecure, curly little brother go?” She asks, a look of nostalgia in her eyes as she smiles at him in that way that’s tinged with sadness for the past that they’ve long left behind. “I hardly recognize this confident, successful man that’s taken his place.”

Harry rolls his eyes at her. “It’s called puberty and a hair-cut,” he drawls, putting away his phone so she knows she’s got his full attention.

Gemma sticks her tongue out at him but then contradicts herself with a “looks good on you.”

Harry gives her the smug grin he knows she was expecting, “I know.”

“Twat,” she rolls her eyes lovingly and walks into his room, bouncing down on the bed next to him.

Harry doesn’t say anything. It’s always better to let Gemma get the last word. Instead, he turns to her, watching her watch him, and waiting for her to say what she’s come to say. Eventually the silence gets to her, and she sighs.

“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” She asks heavily.

Harry chuckles incredulously. “I don’t even know what you’re trying to tell me, Gems. How am _I_ making it difficult?”

“God, that _face_ of yours,” she groans, letting her head fall to rest in her hands.

Harry laughs again. “Sorry you don’t like my face. It’s the one I was born with so I’m kind of attached to it.”

Gemma turns to Harry with narrowed eyes, expecting to see a smug look on his face for the terrible joke he’s just made but there’s not one. He’s just looking at her, all earnest and patient and she snorts. “You don’t even realize you do it anymore, do you?”

“Do what?” He asks, brow scrunched adorably in confusion.

She groans. “The puns, Harry. The bloody puns. I _knew_ we should have had an intervention because now they just come pouring out and you don’t even hear them anymore.”

“Wha-” He starts, still looking confused as he thinks over what he’s said, but then understanding lights in his eyes and a smaller version of that seal bark of laughter he’s known and loved for breaks free from his lips as he realizes what he’s said. “My face is attached. Good one.”

“Oh my god, did you just compliment yourself for a joke you didn’t even know you made?” Gemma wants to be horrified. She is a little but she’s also relieved that some spark of the clumsy, punny, annoying little boy she grew up with still lives on.

“Shut up,” Harry says, smacking her shoulder.

“You shut up,” she grumbles fondly, smacking him back.

Harry lays his head on Gemma’s shoulder in response and Gemma lays her head on his and for a second it feels like old times. She lets herself bask in the feeling until she feels like she can’t put off the truth any longer.

“You’re gonna be angry at me,” she says solemnly, knowing full well that it will be deserved. She’s been keeping this secret for far too long.

Harry lifts his head and looks at her carefully, taking in the slump of her shoulders and the downward tilt of her mouth and knows she’s beating herself up far more than he ever could. She looks up at him when he puts a hand on her arm. “Better to get it over with, then,” he comments, knowing that no matter what she’s done, he won’t be able to hold it against her for long.

She looks him in the eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment on his face but feeling like he deserves this at least, when she announces that “it’s Ed”.

Harry’s face blanks out for a moment, all emotion wiped clean as he wonders aloud “What’s Ed?”

He knows. Deep down _he knows_ what Ed is, but he doesn’t want to believe it. He doesn’t want to think back on the relationship he had with the man and how shit it had all turned out in the end, only to have to imagine Gemma in the same situation. He doesn’t want to think about her feeling the way he did at the end, always feeling not just like he was doing everything wrong but like there was something intrinsically wrong _with him_.

“He’s the mysterious boyfriend you’ve heard so little about,” Gemma confirms, ducking her head a little like she’s waiting for Harry to start yelling. He wonders briefly if Ed’s responsible for that reaction but then pushes the thought away; Ed had never once raised his voice when they were together. Harry doesn’t imagine he’s changed much.

Harry takes a deep breath, opens his mouth to speak, but ends up shutting it again. He doesn’t know what to say. Maybe Ed _has_ changed. It’s been two years since they broke up. Maybe he’s become a better person. At least, that’s what Harry wants to believe if he’s managed to get Gemma under his spell.  More than the bad times, Harry remembers the good ones. He remembers how charming and sweet Ed could be when he wanted to. He remembers just how quickly he’d fallen in love, even faster than he’d fallen out of it. It makes sense, he supposes, that his sister would fall for that same trap. They were made from the same mold after all. The only thing Harry doesn’t understand is how this could happen in the first place. Harry had told Gemma everything after the breakup, she knows how Ed treated him. He just doesn’t understand what happened that could have led to the two of them dating after the things he’d revealed to her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Gemma says before Harry can get his thoughts in order. “I should have. And, believe me, Harry, I fought it for a long time. But then… I just couldn’t anymore.”

Harry shakes his head and opens his mouth again but nothing comes out. He’s stupefied by the mere thought of it. Finally, he just asks, “How did this happen, Gemma?” And then the words just keep spilling out from there. “How’s he treating you? You’re happy, right? I mean, you must be if you’re bringing him home, but it’s good, yeah? Because I’ll kill him if he’s treating you the way he treated me.”

“Harry!” Gemma interrupts before Harry can get too far down that road. “You don’t have to worry, okay? He’s not the same guy he was when you went out with him. He’s changed so much, you don’t even know.”

“So tell me, Gemma,” Harry implores because it’s been Harry’s experience that people don’t change. They just get better at hiding their dark side. “Because right now, all I have to go on is the fact that you felt you had to keep this a secret from me and that doesn’t put your relationship with him in a very good light from where I’m sitting.”

“You’re right,” she immediately agrees. “I guess I should start from the beginning.” She scoots around on the bed so that she’s sitting in front of him, legs crossed in her lap, knees brushing his when he mirrors her position. “So, after the two of you broke up and the band fell apart, Ed kind of drifted for a while. He got to a really dark place, Harry, and he realized that he needed to change. So, he tried to. He got counselling. And then he tried to reach out to you. To make amends.”

Harry remembers that. Ed had started calling a few months after everything had collapsed. Harry had ignored him, not knowing if he was strong enough for whatever conversation Ed wanted to have. “I never answered.”

“I know,” Gemma says, resting a hand on Harry’s knee. “So he started calling me, trying to get me to talk to you for him. I wasn’t convinced, so I didn’t.”

Harry breathes deep as he takes in what Gemma has told him. “You didn’t even mention it.”

“I didn’t want to risk letting him get close enough to hurt you again,” she says. “Protective big sister mode was activated and I wasn’t about to fail you, baby bro. Not again.”

Harry sighs, resting his hand over Gemma’s on his leg. “You’ve never failed me,” he assured her.

“I didn’t know when it was happening. I didn’t know how you were hurting,” her voice is strained, like she might be fighting not to cry. A look at her eyes confirms that they’re just barely holding in the tears threatening to spill over.

“Gem,” Harry chides softly. This is not her burden to bear. “You didn’t know because I didn’t tell you. It’s not your fault.”

Gemma sniffs, pulling her hand away from Harry’s to swipe at the tear that’s managed to escape and slip down her left cheek. “Anyway,” she redirects, not arguing with Harry’s words but it’s clear she doesn’t agree with them either. “It didn’t seem to matter how many times I told Ed to go fuck himself, he was a persistent bastard,” she says with a watery laugh, remembering the numerous phone calls that, for some reason, she never failed to answer even though she knew who was on the other end of them. “He wanted to make things right so badly, he just kept calling. He’d call and ask me to ask you to speak to him, I’d say there was no way in hell, and then he’d just… talk to me. He’d tell me how his counselling was going and what he’d figured out about himself. And I guess, we sort of became friends that way.”

Harry nods. It’s easy to track from Gemma’s story how it would be easy to fall into a friendship with Ed with all he’s heard. He can’t begrudge her wanting to help someone who seemed to be genuinely reaching out. The thing is, Harry has a much harder time believing any of Ed’s actions were genuine and not some grand manipulation. He hates that he’s reached this point, that he’s become jaded enough that he can’t trust in the goodness in people. Ed did that to him.

Gemma studies Harry and she can see that he’s still having trouble not feeling betrayed by her relationship with Ed but he’s listening and that’s all she can really ask. So, she keeps going, not wanting to push his patience. “One day, I realized that Ed hadn’t asked for you during our conversation. And I was relieved, Harry. And it wasn’t just because I was still trying to protect you. I was horrified with myself for just wanting his attention on me and that was when I realized that I liked him. I tried to pull away. I ignored his calls for a while but when I listened to his messages,” her voice breaks as she remembers it, throat going tight again, “he sounded so broken, Harry, wondering what he’d done wrong this time. He knew what he’d done wrong with you but I had given him no clue, no warning.”

Harry reaches for Gemma’s hands and holds them in his own. He hates that she was struggling so hard on his behalf with this misplaced sense of guilt.

Gemma squeezes his hands, accepting the comfort and borrowing a bit of strength to keep speaking. “The next time he called, I answered and when he told me he was in town and asked me to meet him, to get some coffee and talk, I agreed. It just sort of progressed from there. We started seeing each other when he was in town but for a long time, I kept him at arm’s length. I was waiting for him to do something wrong, something that sounded like what you described to me, but it never came. He’s not perfect, Harry, but I promise you he’s _different_.”

Her eyes plead with Harry to believe her and he wants to, he’s trying to, but he’s not succeeding very well. Things hadn’t taken a turn until Harry and Ed had started living together. Gemma may be in love with the man, but Harry’s certain that she has yet to see everything. It’s Christmas though, so he’ll try not to ruin the holiday for her. “I can’t forget what he did to me, Gems, but, for you, I’ll try and give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Gemma lunges across the bed to wrap her arms around her brother’s neck. “Thank you, baby brother,” she breathes, relief surging through her bones. “That’s all I ask.”

Harry buries his face in her neck and hopes with every fiber of his being that he’s not making a mistake.

*******

Louis is punching up his CV when his boss, Nick throws himself down on the extra chair kept in Louis’ cubicle for just such occasions. There are times when Louis hates that he’s so good at his job, Nick always comes to him first with the new assignments. Working for a gossip site was never Louis’ dream job but he’s hoping it’ll be a helpful step toward reaching that dream. It’s just in his grasp, he can feel it. Hence, the CV he’s working on. Which. He should probably hide before Nick sees.

Louis quickly minimizes the page and turns his attention fully on his boss who can barely sit still in his seat. He’s obviously gotten a good piece of gossip and he’s chomping at the bit to pass it on, let Louis spin it into entertainment gold.

“Ed Sheeran and Harry Styles are spending Christmas together,” Nick informs him, hands moving spastically in his excitement, eyes wide and smile manic.

Louis blinks at him. “It’s Christmas, Nick,” he argues with no real emotion, knowing that it won’t matter that Louis is supposed be getting a week off for the holiday once he leaves the office today. He’s the best Nick has and he already knows the words that are about to come out of Nick’s mouth.

“And it’s _your_ job, Louis.”

He almost mouths along with the statement but stops himself just in time.

Nick stands up, never able to sit still for long and bends at the waist to rest his hands on the shoulders of Louis’ still-seated form. Louis knows that Nick loves feeling bigger than his employees. Nevermind that Louis is 5’9 (his sisters dispute this but Louis remains adamant) standing up while Nick is a fucking giant. He can’t get that rush of power unless he’s lording his superior height over them at every possible moment. “This is a huge story, Tomlinson. Think of it. Are Harry and Ed reuniting for good? Is it a romantic reunion or is it _Friends and Lovers_ getting back together? And, Louis, I have it on good authority that _we_ are the only ones with this tidbit of information!”

Louis sighs and drops his head into one hand, using it to massage his forehead and try to rid himself of the headache swiftly growing behind his eyes. He’s not going to win this one. He never does. “Where am I going?”

Nick straightens, grin growing triumphant as always. He loves this part, too, Louis knows. The winning thing. “Holmes Chapel, Cheshire.”

Louis can’t wait to quit this shithole and become a _real_ journalist. _One day_ , he swears. One day, he’ll work for Rolling Stone and he won’t have to worry about hiding in bushes for hours hoping to collect pictures of celebrities in compromising situations so that he can just go home already. One day, the people he grew up being inspired by won’t hate him for spilling their secrets for anyone willing to listen.

Louis rolls his eyes and picks up the receiver of the phone on his desk. Luckily, he’s got a friend in Holmes Chapel. Maybe Liam will let Louis crash on his couch for the holidays.

“Go get us a story,” Nick says with one more pat to Louis’ shoulders before walking out of the cubicle and leaving Louis to his phone call. Louis sends him off with a one-fingered salute. Behind his back, of course.

Liam answers on the third ring and Louis almost wishes he hadn’t. Liam won’t tell him no. The lad is simply too nice to turn someone away at Christmas but while Louis _really_ doesn’t want to do this, he thinks one more good story under his belt can’t possibly hurt his chances at getting the fuck out of here.

*******

In the morning, Harry wakes with an ache in his back and his sister drooling on his shoulder. _Fuck_ , he thinks, arching his back a bit with a groan. The movement disturbs Gemma’s head and has her slapping at him with a sleep-slurred command to “be still”. Harry turns his head to blink down at her and then, in true brotherly fashion, pushes her off of him.

“Twat,” she murmurs, not bothered enough to wake up yet. She’d landed on her pillow anyway so she just snuggles into it and drifts off again, snoring lightly.

Harry grins fondly at his sleeping sister. He’s missed this.

The ache in his back flares painfully and his pleasant thoughts are cut short. He sits up slowly, blinking as he takes in the morning sun shining through the family room curtains and then the telly directly across from him. They must have fallen asleep while they were marathoning the Harry Potter films. He knew he should have stolen the sofa when his parents had gone to bed but he’d wanted to stay next to Gemma, re-enacting past Christmases where they’d curled up next to each other to watch whatever Christmas programme was playing on the television.

“Finally awake, I see,” Anne says from the doorway, blowing over the teacup in her hands, eyes crinkled with happiness.

“Is there more?” Harry asks, nodding to the teacup as he stretches his arms and pops his back. It’s not a complete improvement but it helps the pain fade a little.

“Of course,” Anne answers, affronted by the mere thought that she wouldn’t have his tea for him. “What kind of mother do you think I’ve become in your absence?”

Harry stands, tugging his t-shirt down and giving her a mischievous grin as he walks by to get to the kitchen. “The kind who drinks all the tea herself.”

“It’s not my fault if you aren’t here to share it with,” She grumbles playfully as she takes a sip, following behind him.

Harry looks up from the cup he’s pulled down from the cupboard. “I’ll try to,” he tells her earnestly, no longer able to act like it’s all a big joke. “I’ll try to make it home more often. I’ve decided to take a break from touring for a year or so, so I should be able to manage it soon.”

“I’m not asking you to do that, love,” Anne says brow lined with concern as she watches him fill his cup.

“I know,’ he replies, lips quirking into a smile. “I want to.”

It’s just as Harry’s taking his first sip of tea that there’s a soft knock on the front door.

“That’ll be Ed,” Anne says with a glance toward the door before she turns a wary look toward Harry and it dawns on him that she must have known. At some point, Gemma had to tell her who was coming home with her for Christmas, and they’d all kept it from Harry.

As though Anne can sense the direction of his thoughts, and maybe she can —Harry’s always been told he wears his emotions on his face—, she speaks. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just thought I should give Gemma the chance to explain everything.”

Harry stares down at the tea he’s sat on the counter. “It’s cold out. You should probably let him in,” he says quietly instead of accepting her apology. He will, he just needs a little time.

“You’re right. But first- I need to know that you’re going to be okay, Harry,” Anne tells him and, when he raises his eyes to look at her, she seems for all the world as though she wants to cross the distance between them and hold him. Perhaps she’s afraid he doesn’t want that. He’s not sure if he does either right now.

“I’ll be alright,” Harry says with a tight, fake smile plastered on. “You should get the door.”

“If you’re sure.”

He can still feel his mother’s stare until she’s gone from the kitchen.

Harry can’t put his finger on why, but he gets the feeling that his mother approves of Gemma’s relationship with Ed. He’s not sure if that makes him feel better about this whole situation or worse. On one hand, if his mother approves – after everything – then perhaps things aren’t as bad as Harry fears. But on the other, maybe that’s just setting his whole family up for heartbreak should Ed not be as genuine as they believe him to be.

Harry can hear the affection in his mother’s voice when she greets Ed. It’s familiar, they had been friends once and Ed had met Harry’s family many times before they’d ever even entertained the idea that they might be more to each other. He wonders if his mum ever stopped feeling that affection for Ed. After all, she’d only heard stories of the terrible things he’d said, the awful things he’d made Harry feel. He wonders if someone can fully understand that pain if they’ve never encountered it before.

A shadow in the doorway pulls Harry’s attention from his tea and the thoughts fumbling around in his head. He lifts his eyes to see Ed standing there, looking the most insecure Harry’s ever seen him.

“Hi, Harry,” Ed says, barely managing to hold eye contact, shoulders hunched as though he’s prepared to duck or run if Harry should be angry enough to throw things. Harry is almost offended by the implication. He doesn’t hurt the people that anger him.

“Hello, Ed,” Harry replies, not moving an inch from his spot.

“You look great,” Ed compliments, holding himself a little looser now that he seems to realize that Harry is willing to be civil.

“I suddenly don’t feel so great, actually.” Harry replies honestly, letting his eyes drop back to his tea. _Civil_ , not friendly.

“Yeah, sorry.” Ed shuffles his feet uncomfortably, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’ll just… go wake Gemma.”

“Mmhmm,” Harry hums waiting for him to leave.

When Ed disappears to the family room, Harry lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He has a terrible feeling that Christmas isn’t going to be as happy as he’d hoped this year. Still, he’s with his family and he’s determined not to let Ed Sheeran ruin it for him.

*******

Louis pulls into Liam’s driveway and puts his car in park, turning off the engine and leaning back in his seat to take a good look around. He’s struck by how little the place has changed since he was here last. It’s been two years since he’s actually _seen_ Liam, though they’ve shared more than a few phone calls over that time. They’re still close even though they haven’t seen each other since Louis graduated uni.

Louis’ memories of uni parties and late nights spent drunkenly dragging each other back to their rooms afterward are cut short with the sound of the screen door slamming shut as Liam walks out if it.

“Louis!” He yells, arms thrown open in excitement.

Louis grins and climbs out of the car to throw himself into Liam’s embrace. “Look at you, Payno,” he says pulling himself out of Liam’s arms to scrub at his hair. “You’ve finally let that awful haircut grow out.”

“Shut up,” Liam pushes Louis playfully. “You’re one to talk.”

Louis’ eyes narrow dangerously. “We don’t mention that time of my life, Liam.”

Liam laughs agreeably, “Of course not.” He walks to Louis’ car, pointing questioningly. “Need help with your bags?”

“ _Bag_ , Liam. One,” Louis corrects as he trudges back over. “I told you, I’m only going to be here for a day or two. Just long enough to get this story and then I’m going home.” He pulls his bag from the boot of his car and closes it with a slam.

“Yeah, you told me that,” Liam says, curiosity burning in his eyes. “You didn’t tell me what this story you’re after s though.”

“And I’m not going to,” Louis pats his cheek as he passes Liam to get to the house. “Your poor, innocent soul can’t deal with the things I have to do for this job.”

“Try me,” Liam urges, pushing past Louis to get to the door first and block his way. “I do live here. Maybe I could help.”

“While that is an intriguing idea, Leemo, I’d rather not get you involved,” Louis says truthfully with a cheesy smile. “Plausible deniability.”

Liam opens the door, finally, and lets Louis pass by to go inside. “Maybe you should look for a job where terms like ‘plausible deniability’ don’t apply,” he murmurs. Louis ignores him. If he could help it, he _would_ have a better job.

Louis lets Liam lead him to the guest room where he throws his bag down on the bed and bounces himself down next to it. The bed doesn’t bounce. Louis had forgotten. He rubs at the twinge in his back and pouts at Liam who’s standing in the doorway watching him with a smirk. “Stupid bed,” he mutters.

“Something’s stupid, alright,” Liam agrees, still grinning. “Not so sure it’s the bed.”

“Some host you are,” Louis complains with a whine, “Haven’t offered me tea or anything.”

Liam’s eyes go wide and he drops into a bit of a bow. “I’m sorry, would his majesty like some tea?”

Louis huffs at the sarcasm but plays along. “Yorkshire, if you have it.” He waits a beat for Liam to straighten. “Peasant.”

Liam rolls his eyes and retreats to go make the tea while Louis throws himself back on the bed. He immediately winces. He’s got to stop doing that.

Louis turns his head toward the window and notices there’s a light snow falling.

 _Pretty_ , he thinks idly as he lays there, waiting for Liam to bring him his tea. Just like old times.

*******

Harry sits on the arm of the sofa, next to his mum, watching the news. Gemma is in Ed’s lap on one armchair while Robin sits in the other.

Harry had come in, seen Gemma and Ed cuddled together and meant to walk back out, but the news had caught his attention. The weather specifically, was what had him sitting on the arm of the sofa, hand resting on his mother’s shoulder. Normally, Harry loves the snow but this storm sounds like it’s going to get pretty bad.

“I should run to the shops,” he tells his mum, looking down at her. “Pick up more bread and milk before it gets bad out.”

“I’ll go,” Anne tries to argue. “You’ve only been here a day. I can’t have you running around like I don’t take care of you.”

Harry shakes his head, having none of it. “The road is probably already slick. I’ll go,” he insists. The truth is, Harry needs a little time to think, to breathe. And, honestly, he loves having the chance to do something as simple as doing the shopping. It’s too hard to do without getting mobbed in the city.

He’s already pulled on an extra jumper that was laying over the back of the sofa (it’s Gemma’s but he doesn’t care) and he’s heading to get his boots and jacket on when his mother calls out.

“Be careful, Harry.”

“I will,” he promises.

A sound from across the room makes Harry’s head whip up from where he’s concentrating on slipping his boots on without falling over and he sees Gemma nudging Ed. He turns his attention back to his task, staring intently at what his hands are doing. He’s got a bad feeling about this.

“I’ll come with you, if you don’t mind,” Ed pipes up and Harry closes his eyes in resignation.

He turns to look at Ed but his eyes never make it beyond Gemma’s face, alight with hope. He did promise to try and give the other man a chance, and he hasn’t been doing a very good job at keeping that promise.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry hears himself say, giving a minute nod in reply when Gemma mouths a silent ‘thank you’.

After a moment in which Ed kisses Gemma goodbye and makes the same promise to be careful, he meets Harry by the door and they both pull on their jackets in silence. Harry grabs the keys to the Range Rover that he hopes hasn’t just been sitting in the garage since he’d moved to London. He’s pretty sure Robin makes sure it gets regular use to keep it in working order.

Once in the car, the tension is so thick Harry feels like he’s choking on it. Ed keeps glancing at Harry and Harry’s just trying to keep the car on the road. It’s awkward and uncomfortable and Harry wishes that Ed would either say something or quit looking at him like that. He clears his throat and Ed immediately sits at attention, like he’s waiting for Harry to address him first. Harry clenches the steering wheel because he has no idea what to say that either won’t be a lie or make the situation worse. So he doesn’t say anything at all.

*******

Inside the shop is no better than the car.

Ed pushes the trolley while Harry fills it. He’d grabbed the bread and milk first because it’s crowded due to the weather, everyone rushing to make sure they won’t get caught without during the course of the storm, but now he’s considering a few easy meals he might be able to cook before the storm gets bad enough to knock the power out. He might have a day or two.

“You should get the stuff for that lasagna you used to make,” Ed says, breaking the silence between them.

Harry turns a calculating look on him and, after a good thirty seconds of enduring it, Ed looks like he wishes he hadn’t spoken at all. He shrugs and looks into the mostly empty trolley. “It was good,” he says softly.

There’s no reason Harry’s throat should grow tight at Ed’s small compliment but it does, his thoughts going back to when they’d lived together. Harry’d had this image of perfect domestic bliss back then and, at first, they’d had that. But then… He blinks away the memory. Nothing good will come from going back there. Harry drops his gaze from his former lover.

“Thanks,” he says in reply, turning back to the shelf he was considering before Ed had spoken.

“Harry?!?”

Harry turns with a smile already on his face at the familiar voice of Liam Payne. “Liam!”

They crash into each other, Harry clutching onto his old friend so tightly he briefly worries that he should loosen his grip before he realizes that Liam is holding him just as tightly.

“How’ve you been?” Liam asks, pulling back to look at him. “I mean, besides the sky-rocketing music career. Well done, mate!”

Harry laughs. “Thank you,” he offers politely before giving Liam a shrug. “I’ve been pretty good, I guess. How’re you?”

“Good, good,” Liam nods. “Working in my Dad’s old shop and volunteering with the fire service.”

Harry wants to ask him what he does for the fire service but then Liam’s eyes trail over to Ed just standing there behind the trolley, allowing himself to be ignored.

Immediately, Liam’s eyes go wide and Harry feels absolute dread flood his gut.

“Are you two back together?” Liam asks, sounding far too excited about that prospect for Harry’s liking.

“No,” Harry answers almost before Liam’s done asking the question. He glances at Ed and sees his head duck down, cheeks flushed. Harry doesn’t know what to think of that, so he pretends he didn’t see it. “Sorry, no. Ed’s dating my sister, so.”

“Oh.” The excitement drains from Liam’s face, replaced with a look that Harry can only guess might be embarrassment at jumping to conclusions so quickly.

“I’m sure it won’t be the last time someone thinks that,” Harry tells him, trying to be comforting.

“Probably not,” Liam agrees easily and it’s like his mistake from a moment ago is forgotten. “Well, listen. I’ve got to get home. I have an old friend staying with me for a little while and he’s an absolute diva, but we should get together before you go home.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Harry rushes to agree. A chance to spend time with a friend he hasn’t seen in ages _and_ an excuse to get away from the stifling act of having to spend time with his ex? Sign him up. “Would you have time tomorrow?”

Liam winces at the suggestion. “Probably not. I’m on the road safety crew with the fire service. We’ll be plowing the roads in intervals to keep it from getting too bad and hopefully keep people from getting stuck in their homes.”

“Maybe I can help,” Harry offers, genuinely concerned about how bad this storm might actually get.

Liam seems to think about it for a minute and eventually nods. “I’m sure there’s somewhere we can put you to use.”

“Great,” Harry smiles, pulling out his mobile and offering it to Liam. “Here. Put your number in. I’ll call in the morning and see if you need me.”

“Deal,” Liam agrees, punching his number in and handing the mobile back to Harry. “I have to get back home before my ‘houseguest’ starts calling every five minutes to see where I am.”

Harry snorts.

Liam looks at him very seriously. “You think I’m joking.”

“Would he really do that?” Harry wonders.

As if in answer, Liam’s phone starts chirping in his pocket. He digs it out, sees who’s calling, and rolls his eyes. “You _had_ to ask,” he shakes his head at Harry with a wry grin.

Harry chuckles. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Liam waves off the apology. “Drive safe getting home. And I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry!” He turns to leave, pulling his phone up to his ear as he answers it. “What can I get you now, your highness?”

Harry laughs again, wondering at the person on the other end of Liam’s phone call. It feels good to laugh after all the tension from earlier. So good, in fact, that when Harry twists around and finds Ed still standing there, he doesn’t immediately drop the smile on his face.

Ed sees it when he risks a glance at Harry and Harry isn’t entirely sure what he takes from it, but when he offers a shy smile in return, Harry reaches out and tugs on his sleeve. “Come on. We’ve still got some shopping to do.”

“Lead the way,” Ed says easily, following as Harry leads him out of the aisle.

*******

Louis has been at the Twist residence for a good couple of hours trying to catch a glimpse of Harry Styles or Ed Sheeran but neither seems to be there. He’s considered more than once that Nick was given a bad lead and Louis’ the one suffering for it.  

It was easy figuring out where Harry Styles’ parents lived. It’s well known by Harry’s fans that his mother married Robin Twist when Harry was nineteen years old. There are pictures from the wedding online and Louis had even seen a weirdly adorable vine that Harry had made that day. So, knowing both Harry’s parents’ names, it wasn’t hard to look them up. Their house is lovely, picturesque and Harry’s family looks rather cozy lazing about near the fireplace in the family room. Louis wishes he were somewhere cozy, and warm. He wishes he’d never found this stupid house. He’s so freaking cold. The snow is falling steadily now and Louis would say there’s an inch or two already blanketing the ground. This storm has hit hard and fast.

He gives it ten more minutes and then gives up for the day, waddling away from the window in a crouch. He waits until he’s far enough away that he doesn’t have to worry about not being seen before standing to his full height, taking turns stretching out first his left leg, and then his right. They were starting to cramp something awful.

He walks through the snow on the way back to Liam’s house and hopes fervently that his frozen toes survive the journey. He also hopes Liam got that hot cocoa mix he’d asked him to pick up. Louis’ not even halfway to Liam’s house and he’s already salivating at the idea of the warm chocolate flavor on his tongue.

Even as he fantasizes about everything from the hot beverage to taking a hot shower, he knows he’ll have to go back tomorrow. If Harry Styles is coming to Holmes Chapel for Christmas, there’s no way he won’t show up by tomorrow. Louis knows if he was spending Christmas with his family (he was supposed to be), he’d want to spend as much time with them as possible. 

Thoughts of his family make Louis speed up his steps. It’s a long walk to Liam’s and he’s going to be doing it all over again tomorrow.

*******

“Louis!” Liam shouts when he gets home with the shopping. He sets the bags down on the kitchen counter. “You’ll never believe who I ran into today!”

Liam starts to put away the groceries but then stops when he doesn’t hear Louis stomping down the stairs or yelling a demand for Liam to make him a sandwich or something. “Louis?” He calls, abandoning his bags to look through the house. “Huh,” he grunts when he finds no one there, then shrugs and goes back to putting things away. Louis knows where the spare key is if he needs it.

When Louis gets back, he’s freezing cold and shivering pretty badly so Liam orders him to the shower to warm up. He fixes Louis the hot cocoa he’d wanted for when he gets out of the shower and then spends the rest of the afternoon babying him, concerned for his wellbeing. He forgets all about telling Louis about his run in with his old friend Harry Styles.

*******

“So?” Gemma sneaks up on Harry as soon as he’s alone when he and Ed get back.

“So… what?” Harry asks, pretending not to know what she’s asking. It’s maybe just a tiny bit amusing seeing her get all frustrated when he doesn’t give her the answers she wants immediately. After all, he’s her brother. Not a saint.

She glares. Harry blinks back at her, biting his inner cheek to keep from showing his amusement.

“How did the shopping trip go?” She asks with dead eyes and a flat tone. She knows what he’s doing. She invented that. Well. Between the two of them, she did it first anyway.

Harry shrugs. “It went fine. Did you see everything I got? I was thinking of making lasagna for dinner tonight.”

She huffs an irritated scoff at him. “I’m not talking about the bloody shopping and you know it.”

“Language!” Anne calls from the other room and both of her children turn toward the sound of her voice.

“How does she do that?” Harry wonders aloud. His mum has always been able to call them out when they curse, even when she’s on the other side of the house. It’s like she’s got bionic ears or something.

“Mum powers,” Gemma answers like it’s not even something he should be questioning. Mothers just _know_.

“Do dads get super powers?” Harry asks and Gemma’s well aware that he’s purposely avoiding her question.

“Was it that bad?” She asks plaintively, hoping her brother will hear her need for a real answer and give her one.

He does, giving his head the smallest of shakes. “No,” he say before changing his mind. “I mean, it was at first. The car ride there was awful. But then, I don’t know. It just stopped feeling quite so tense between us and we talked a little.”

Gemma’s nodding along to what Harry’s saying and he can see her excitement growing and he has to stop her from getting too far with that.

“It wasn’t a huge breakthrough,” he says sternly. “I still don’t entirely trust his motives, but… I’m trying.”

“I know you are,” Gemma states. “You promised. And I’ve never known you to break a promise. Especially not to me.”

Harry gives Gemma a half-smile. “The lasagna was his idea.”

“Yeah?” Gemma smiles back, this is as good as proof that Harry is giving Ed the chance he said he would.

“A promise is a promise, Gems,” Harry answers, somehow reading her thoughts.

She had been afraid that Harry had made her this vow that he wouldn’t be able to keep but now Gemma sees that she was silly to worry. Harry’s never let her down before and he won’t let her down now. She wishes that she had the same track record but she just knows that this will be good for Harry too. He’s spent way too long holding on to a dark past. Maybe seeing Ed for who he is now will help them both let go of that darkness.

*******

Supper goes surprisingly well. Harry wouldn’t have dared hope that he could sit down to a meal with his family and Ed, and have everything go smoothly.

Silverware clinks across plates as everyone enjoys the lasagna Harry made. After his first bite, Ed had smiled at Harry, telling him “it’s even better than I remember.”

Harry had smiled back and tried not to think about the things _he_ remembered. Less pleasant things. He’d decided yesterday that what’s in the past is in the past and he’s going to try to leave it there. It’s easier said than done though. 

Gemma must have seen the haunted look in Harry’s eyes because she’d quickly changed the subject. Harry was grateful for it.

Now, they’re all talking over each other and laughing and it _feels_ like home again, even with Ed there. His presence doesn’t feel like an intrusion and Harry finds that he’s actually enjoying himself. Maybe things _are_ different. Maybe things can work out after all. Harry certainly hopes so. For Gemma’s sake.

After their supper they have dessert and then there’s the inevitable fuss over who’s going to do the washing up. Harry grins, thinking fondly that he’s never seen a family where everyone’s arguing _for_ the job. Well, everyone but Gemma who looks like she’s hoping no one notices her sitting silently by. In the end, Anne relents under Ed’s insistence and lets him take the dishes. Gemma pouts about it, only opening her mouth to offer to help Ed when she catches Anne’s glare, but Harry jumps in before she has to.

“I’ll help,” He offers, sending his sister a wink as he picks up his own plate to follow Ed to the kitchen.

“But, Harry-” Anne tries to argue but Harry cuts her off with a hand on her shoulder and a kiss to her hair as he passes.

“I want to,” He assures her. “Ed and I have a lot to catch up on, anyway.”

The beaming smiles of both his mother and sister leave Harry feeling pretty good about his decision. That is, until he’s standing in the kitchen behind Ed, and he’s confronted with the reality of what he’s just committed to. He goes a little cold at the thought but pushes forward, taking those last few steps.

“I’ll dry,” Harry informs him, picking up a dish towel and getting started on the few things Ed’s already washed.

Ed turns to him and gives him that shy smile again. “Thanks.”

They work in silence for a few minutes. Despite what Harry told his mother, he can’t think of a single thing to say. No, that’s wrong. He can think of several things to say but they don’t fit well with his vow to leave the past where it is.

Ed stops washing suddenly and turns to Harry. “I’m sorry, Harry. For all the hurtful things I said to you when we were together. You didn’t deserve a single one of them and I wish I could take them all back. And I know it’s part of the recovery process or whatever to apologize to those you’ve wronged but I’m not saying it because I’m supposed to or because I’m with Gemma now. I’m saying it because you deserve it.”

Harry doesn’t know when his eyes started watering and his throat got clogged with emotion but he has to clear it and blink a few times before he can speak. “Thank you, Ed. I accept your apology,” he says, and he doesn’t know if he should be surprised that he actually means it. Ed’s apology, though several years late, actually means something to him. And it’s not like it’s entirely Ed’s fault that it took so long for him to say it.

Ed gives a nod of acknowledgement and Harry can’t help noticing that his eyes look red-rimmed like maybe he’s feeling emotional too. But then Ed turns back to the dishes and Harry can’t be sure of what he saw. He goes back to drying in silence.

When the family gathers around the television to watch _It’s a Wonderful Life_ later, Harry sits next to Ed and Gemma on the sofa. It’s an olive branch.

Gemma smiles at him from the other side of Ed and Harry quite likes feeling like he’s doing something right for once.

*******

Louis wakes up aching all over and sniffling. Ugh. He hates snow. He hates his job. He hates Nick. (Mostly.)

He shuffles around Liam’s house, wrapped up in the duvet from the guest bed, and makes himself some tea. He can’t properly function until he’s had his morning cuppa.

There’s a cupcake on the counter. It’s frosted pink with sprinkles and there’s a note tucked partially underneath that reads ‘Happy Birthday, Lou! ~~I’ll bake you a real cake when I get home.~~ I’ll buy you a real cake while I’m out.  – Liam’

Louis takes the cupcake with him, holding the duvet closed around him with one hand, and sits down on the sofa, biting into the sweet. It’s actually pretty good considering Liam made it (which isn’t to say that it’s actually good) and Louis appreciates the gesture.

He picks up the remote and turns on the telly. The news is on. Again. Reporting about the stupid snowstorm. Again. Louis sips his tea and half-listens to the warnings that people shouldn’t be trying to drive on the icy roads. Nearly everything is shut down for the day, probably the next few days, so everyone should just stay home and enjoy the peace.

Louis snorts knowing Liam is out in the snow, trying to keep the roads safe for the idiots who refuse to sit still. Poor sod. Honestly, if Louis were stuck at home during a snow storm with nothing to do, he’d probably be one of those idiots.

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on Louis’ mood at any given moment, Louis _does_ have something to do. He’s got job to do.

Glancing at Liam’s creepy grandfather clock in the corner (that thing has it in for Louis, he’s sure of it) Louis sees that it’s after eleven in the morning. He wonders if it’s too early to go to the Twist residence again.

Probably, he decides and snuggles into the duvet as he changes the channel on the television and finishes his cupcake, tossing the paper wrapper on the coffee table. He stumbles across Little Women and sets down the remote, feeling nostalgic for his sisters as he watches the lives of the March sisters weave around each other.

Louis is imbued with a new sense of purpose when the film is over. He’s going to get this story and get home to his family.

His phone starts ringing as he’s getting dressed and he picks it up, groaning when he sees Nick’s name on the screen.

“What?” Louis answers as he zips his trousers. Screw professionality.

“We’ve been scooped,” Nick rages in his ear. “How did you let this happen, Louis?”

“Wait. What are you talking about?!?” Louis cries, indignant.

“’Ed Sheeran and Harry Styles seen out shopping together’” Nick reads with irritation bleeding into every word. “’ Here at Sugarscape, we wonder if they’re back to making beautiful music together. Either in the studio _or_ the bedroom. Whichever it is, we hope there’s audio.’”

“Fuck,” Louis groans.

“Yeah, ‘fuck’ is right,” Nick says forcefully, but then his tone changes, becoming something lighter. “Or, wait, were we still talking about the bedroom noises they were alluding to?”

Louis sighs. He sort of hates Nick (even if he doesn’t really), who’s still prattling on.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind hearing that audio as well.”

“Nick, focus,” Louis says, even though reminding Nick to focus is probably likely to end in Louis getting a bollocking. Especially when he asks what he’s about to ask. “Does this mean I can go home?”

“What? No, you can’t go home,” Nick answers, incredulous. “Sugarscape is only speculating why they’re together. You’re going to get us the answer to that question.”

“Fine,” Louis answers grumpily. “But as soon as I do, I’m out of here.”

“Honestly, mate, I doubt you’re getting out of there until New Years from what I hear on the weather,” Nick tells him, not sounding the least bit sympathetic.

“Great,” Louis moans, tossing himself down on the bed dramatically.

 _Ow._ He’s really got to remember to stop doing that. Staying with Liam is going to be detrimental to his lifestyle if he’s got to leave off the dramatics.

“Stay safe,” Nick says, “and get that story!”

Louis tosses his mobile away from him. He shouldn’t have answered. Bastard didn’t even remember that it’s Louis’ birthday.

He drapes an arm over his head like he’s some kind of damsel in distress. Distress he has plenty of, but he’s not actually a damsel so he forces himself up after a few minutes of wallowing in his apparent failure. He steals some of Liam’s thickest socks and pulls them on, thinks on it for a minute and then takes another pair and pulls them on too. He’d still like to keep his toes, thank you very much. Then, he pulls on a pair of Liam’s boots as well. Louis’ Vans are poor protection against the snow so, he’s forced to resort to temporary thievery.

Louis pulls on a jumper over his shirt and tugs his jacket on over that. There. All nice and cozy. He imagines he can stand waiting in the snow for a few hours and still be alright if he needs to. He’s certainly better prepared than he was yesterday.

Yanking a beanie down over his ears, Louis grabs his mobile and Liam’s spare key and hurries out of the house.

It’s not until Louis’ tucked himself under the same window at the Twist house that he realizes he forgot his damn camera.

Not about to give up, or make the trip back to Liam’s just to turn around and come back again, Louis pulls out his mobile and brings up the camera app. It’s not as good as his Sony A7RII but it’s better than nothing.

“Happy Birthday to me,” Louis mutters to himself and returns to spying on the Twist house.

*******

“Have you ever driven a snow plow before?” Liam asks warily.

“Sort of,” Harry answers honestly. “My dad –not Robin, my birth father– used to plow the roads when I was younger. He let me go with him a few times so I know most of the controls just from watching him.”

Harry can tell that Liam is seriously questioning his own judgement right now. He wouldn’t be in this position if his original volunteers hadn’t bailed on him. Of course, they’re dealing with children that suddenly don’t have school to attend and icy snow-covered roads that are impossible to navigate at the moment so they can’t really be blamed. Harry lives close enough that he’d walked and now here he is, behind the controls of heavy machinery.

Yeah, this probably isn’t a good plan.

*******

Despite Louis’ preparedness, he’s still freezing. Especially his fingers. Because he’s an idiot that didn’t bother to bring gloves. Of course, he’d been expecting to be holding a very expensive and sensitive piece of equipment but he still should have brought some damn gloves.

All of his thoughts about cameras and gloves and how miserable he is come to a screeching halt when he hears a rumbling on the street behind him. When he turns, he sees a snow plow plodding down the road. It’s not actually going that fast and Louis scrambles to hide himself behind a bush so that the driver won’t see him. But that’s before he realizes that the driver is too busy panicking about something else entirely as Louis hears him yelling “I’ve got no brakes! I’VE GOT NO BRAAAAAKES!”

Louis can admit that he’s always been the type to act first and think later. That’s the only excuse he’s got when he finds himself sprinting across the snow-covered garden in a burst of adrenaline and hopping onto the runaway snow plow. He’s got no idea what he’s doing but somehow, he gets the machine stopped. As soon as the snow plow is no longer in motion, Louis and the driver turn to face each other, both panting hard from the scare.

“Thank you,” the driver breathes, voice slow and syrupy.

Louis finds himself staring into wide green eyes, his gaze trailing down to bubblegum pink lips before drifting back up to take in the entire beautiful face before him. He knows who he’s looking at. This is Harry fucking Styles.

A combination of the cold and the adrenaline slowly ebbing away coupled with the shock of seeing the man that he’s supposed to be spying on right in front of him take their toll rather suddenly and Louis passes out, only vaguely aware of a pair of strong arms catching him before he can tumble into the snow.

*******

Harry paces the floor, glancing every couple of seconds at the man passed out on his couch. He doesn’t know what to think of the stranger that had come seemingly out of nowhere to save him from hurting himself or someone else with that damned snow plow.

Harry had brought him in the house when he’d passed out, deposited him on the sofa, and covered him with a thick blanket. He’d called Liam immediately and told him about the incident so that something could be done about the snow plow left sitting in the street. His friend had offered to come and hang out, make sure Harry was alright but Harry had turned him down. Liam’s got more important things to think about.

“Who’s this?” Gemma asks, walking into the room with Ed following close behind, their fingers tangled together. She nods to the sofa and the body resting on it.

“I don’t know yet,” Harry says crossing his arms over his chest before bringing his hand up to his mouth and pinching his bottom lip in thought. A second later, he lets the hand fall away. “He came out of nowhere and kept me from crashing the snow plow I was on.”

Ed and Gemma’s faces both scrunch in confusion. Oh, god. They’re at _that_ stage? It’s so cute it’s almost unbearable and Harry isn’t sure he’s ready to be having nice, fluffy thoughts about their relationship yet.

“What were _you_ doing on a snow plow?” Gemma asks with a disbelieving laugh.

Harry pouts and doesn’t look at them when he answers. “None of the other road safety volunteers could make it.”

A loud, mirthful laugh bursts from Gemma’s lips and she nearly collapses from the force of it. “You? On the road safety crew? Who would let a menace like you on a snow plow?!?”

Ed is smiling too but Harry’s pretty sure it’s at Gemma and not his misfortune so he’ll try not to hold it against him.

Harry’s bottom lip puckers out farther as his pout grows. “Nevermind that. Aren’t you worried about the passed out stranger on the sofa?”

Gemma looks down at the sleeping man. “He’s cute,” she says with a raise of her eyebrows.

Ed snorts behind her but doesn’t appear offended. Not even when she turns to him and informs that “Just because we’re together doesn’t mean I’m going to stop having eyes.”

Ed shrugs off the comment. “Hey, I used to sleep with your brother. If you can deal with that, I can deal with you thinking other guys are cute.”

Harry nearly chokes, unprepared to have his relations with Ed brought up so casually in the company of his sister.

Gemma seems unbothered, winking at Harry before she turns to Ed. “I can do that,” she confirms.

God, their relationship is so weird. Or is this just what siblings go through when one of them used to sleep with the guy the other is currently sleeping with? Harry shakes his head to clear those thoughts out. He doesn’t even want to know.

“If you’re done making me uncomfortable, please leave,” he tries to say calmly but there’s a pleading tone to his voice that even he can hear.

“I’m telling mum you brought a guy home, too,” Gemma teases, leading Ed out of the room by the hand before Harry can get in a retort.

Well, he _is_ cute. Beautiful even. Now if only he would just wake up so Harry can question him about the footprints he found leading to the snow plow from one of the windows outside the house.

*******

Louis blinks his eyes open and for a moment he’s sure he’d passed out in the snow outside the Twist residence and now he’s dreaming about that spot he’d been longing for in front of the fireplace. Because that’s where he is, in the Twist family room, on that comfortable looking sofa (it’s even better than Louis’ purest fantasy), wrapped in a warm blanket.

“Hello,” a feminine voice makes Louis turn his head and he finds who he assumes is Anne Twist, sitting in an armchair studying him, book resting on the arm of her chair as though she’d put it down when she saw him stirring.

“Hello, ma’am,” Louis greets feeling awkward and maybe a little bit afraid of how he got here. Did they find him outside their window? Have they called the police? Will they?

“You can call me Anne, if you like,” she says with a hint of a smile. “How do you feel? You look flushed.”

“Fine,” Louis says before he really thinks about it. He mentally assesses what he can and can’t feel, whether he’s done any damage to himself. He can wiggle his fingers and toes, his legs are fine if a little achy and everything else seems to be in working order as well. “Good,” he corrects himself.

“I’m glad,” Anne says still looking at him warmly. “My son told me an interesting story about you.”

Louis feels panic swirl in the pit of his stomach. Maybe she’s not looking at him warmly, maybe Louis’ misinterpreted. Maybe the look Anne is directing at him is really saying, ‘ _you_ think _you’re safe but you’re about to spend the holidays behind bars, you spying cretin_.’

“He said you saved him from leveling the whole street with a snow plow?” There’s laughter in her tone and Louis feels the panic in his gut dissipate almost instantly as everything from before he’d passed out comes flooding back.

“Oh, yeah. I remember that now,” Louis says. “He was screaming about having no brakes.”

Anne laughs. “I love my son but that does sound just like him.”

Louis grins back. He likes the fondness in Anne’s voice when she talks about her son. She reminds him of his own mother. He sort of misses her terribly.

“What’s your name, love?” Anne asks and Louis thinks for a split second about lying, giving a false name. But he doesn’t.

“Louis.”

“How would you like some tea, Louis?” Anne offers kindly.

“Um, I would, thank you,” Louis answers, the words catching in his throat and forcing him to cough.

“Oh, my,” Anne fusses over him, stepping forward to feel his forehead with the back of her hand, “Are you alright?”

And Louis’ not proud of it, but a plan begins to form at that moment. He’ll hate himself for it, but it’ll help him get the story he needs if it all pans out the way he hopes it does. “I’m fine,” he says trying to look slightly pitiful as he forces another cough. “I probably just picked up a cold, waiting for the mechanic for so long.”

“Mechanic?” Anne asks, just as he’d hoped.

“My car broke down out on the street. I called for a mechanic but I guess he couldn’t get to me through all the snow.”

Anne looks deeply concerned by Louis’ story. “You’re not too far from home, I hope.”

Louis looks down at his hands, really turning up the act. “I’m actually supposed to be staying with a friend for the holidays but I don’t see how I’m going to get there now.”

“Oh, dear,” Anne frets and Louis can see the desire to help him crying out from her eyes. She backs away from him rather suddenly. “You stay put. I’ll get you that tea,” she says and dashes from the room.

 _Well._ He wasn’t expecting _that_. He slumps back on the sofa which, incidentally, is a million times more comfortable than Liam’s guest bed and waits for Anne to come back. He doesn’t get who he’s expecting though.

It’s Harry Styles that comes out of the kitchen carrying a tray with the tea on it. “Hi, I’m Harry.”

Louis sits upright and his skin feels alight with nerves. “Louis Tomlinson,” he offers, thanking Harry quietly when he pours some tea and offers Louis the cup, all while wondering why he gave Harry his surname. Surely that was a bad idea.

“My parents are currently arguing over whether or not to let you stay here until the mechanic can get to your car and get it fixed,” Harry says with no inflection as he pours his own tea and sits in the armchair Anne was using before. Louis thinks this may be a bad sign. He’s read the stories in the tabloids about what a brat Harry Styles can be.

“That’s very nice of them but I didn’t ask for that,” Louis says, and it’s true. He didn’t ask. He is rather gifted at manipulating people, though. Oh god, he’s going to hell for this, isn’t he?

“I didn’t think you did,” Harry says leveling him with a steady gaze. “I think you hoped they would offer though.”

Louis freezes, unsure what Harry’s getting at and feeling increasingly uncomfortable about it. “I mean, I don’t really have anywhere to go at the moment so, I guess I might have _hoped_. I would never have asked though.”

“You know what I think?” Harry asks and Louis not sure he _wants_ to know what Harry thinks.

“Well, I’m not a mind reader, so-“

“I think you’re lying, Louis. I saw the footprints you left outside that window,” Harry accuses, pointing to the window Louis had been hiding outside of. “And I want to know why you’ve been spying on my family.”

Louis sighs, lowering his teacup back down onto the tray. He’s suddenly not very thirsty. He’s caught. He could make up another lie but he doesn’t really want to. Maybe if he’s straight with Harry, who seems more protective than bratty if Louis’ opinion counts, he’ll just tell Louis what he needs so that he can go home without all the subterfuge.

“I’m sorry,” Louis tells him, genuinely meaning it. “I work for a gossip site online and my boss won’t let me go home until I get his story. I thought if your mum let me stay here for a day or two that would make it easier.”

Harry takes in everything Louis’ said and still seems unsure how to respond. The look he’s giving Louis doesn’t seem as hostile as Louis thinks he probably deserves and that prompts him to apologize again.

“I really am sorry. I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, I just want to go home,” Louis groans.

“So, you’re here to, what? Spy on Gemma and Ed?” Harry asks, looking utterly confused.

“No?” Now, Louis’ confused. “I’m here to spy on you and Ed.”

“There is no ‘me and Ed’,” Harry replies. “He’s with my sister, Gemma, now.”

“Oh. That’s awkward,” Louis winces in sympathy.

Harry gives him a half-grin that leaves a small crater in his cheek. “Tell me about it.”

“So, no musical _or_ romantic reunion?” Louis pushes, keeping his eyes wide and innocent.

It doesn’t work, Harry sees right through him and scoffs with a roll of his eyes. “I’d forgotten I was talking to the press,” he chides Louis.

Louis simply shrugs and smirks at him. “That’s all I need to know to be able to go home.”

Harry licks his lips before he tucks the bottom one briefly between his teeth. “Fine. No. No reunions for me and Ed. Will you leave us alone now?”

“That hurts, Harry,” Louis grins at him, not bothered by Harry asking him to shove off. He’d have said worse if their roles were reversed. “But, you know, a picture of the two of them together would _really_ put me over the top with my boss.”

Harry shakes his head with a laugh that’s not entirely disbelieving. “You’re shameless, aren’t you?”

“Only when I have to be,” Louis counters, and if it’s possible, he thinks he may be winning over Harry Styles.

“I shouldn’t encourage you,” Harry tells him. Or maybe he’s telling himself, trying to convince himself to shout at Louis to get the fuck out of his house and stay out. “You’ll just think it’s okay to keep spying on people.”

“Actually, I’m hoping to get out of this line of work soon,” Louis assures him. “I sort of hate making decent people like yourself hate me.”

“Why don’t you? Get out of it?” Harry asks.

“You know that saying ‘the wind from one door closing opens a window’ or some shit like that?”

Harry nods, puzzled grin on his face.

“Still waiting for a window to open,” Louis says with a shrug.

“I think you’ve missed the point,” Harry tells him, earnestly. “The door has to close before the window can open. But you’re still standing in the doorway, blocking the way.”

“Maybe you have a point, Styles,” Louis concedes, throwing the blanket off of his lap. “I’ll get out of your hair then.”

“I didn’t mean– ”

“I know you didn’t. But I shouldn’t be here, cutting into your family holiday,” Louis cuts him off. “If you could just point me to my shoes.”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry stands, putting down his largely forgotten cup of tea in order to lead Louis to the front door where his (Liam’s) shoes are lined up on the mat next to it. “Here they are.”

“Thanks,” Louis offers, bending down to put them on and work up the laces.

“Louis, do you actually have somewhere to go?” Harry asks before Louis can walk out the door.

“I am actually staying with a friend. It’s a long walk but the answer is yes,” Louis tells Harry with a grin already feeling agonizingly fond of the singer. How did that happen? Not ten minutes ago he was accusing Louis of spying on him (rightfully so) and Louis was expecting him to be the spoiled brat the tabloids make him out to be. “Thanks for asking, though.”

“Louis?” Anne’s voice makes him turn around just as he reaches for the doorknob. “Where are you going?”

Louis glances at Harry, wondering if he’s going to spill the beans but Harry just stares back at him, waiting for him to come up with whatever story comes to mind. “I looked it up on my mobile and my friend’s house is actually a lot closer than I thought,” Louis tells her with what he hopes is a reassuring grin. “It’s a short enough distance to walk.”

Anne shakes her head and steps past him to open the door. The world outside has gone blindingly white as snow rains down from the heavens and whites out the entire village. “Not in this, it’s not,” Anne argues, gesturing to the blizzard outside before she closes the door back. “Come on,” She says, taking Louis’ arm and leading him up the stairs. “You’re welcome to stay here until the storm blows over. I’m sure Harry’s got some clothes you can wear while you’re here.”

Louis looks over his shoulder at Harry, still standing by the door. He’d expected Harry to look upset by his continued presence but he doesn’t. He looks thoughtful, maybe even content with the turn of events. Louis can’t fathom it. He’s probably making up things. How could Harry trust him after everything? In the end, Louis decides he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the teeth, or however that saying goes.

He sits down on his new bed (better than Liam’s) and wonders how he ended up here.

A light tap on the door has him looking up to find Harry standing there, holding a bundle of clothes in his hands. “Looks like you’re staying for a while.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Louis grimaces.

“Will you just promise me one thing?” Harry asks, fiddling with a string on the shirt at the top of his pile.

“What is it?” Louis asks, warily. He won’t make a promise unless he knows he’ll be able to keep it. He owes Harry that, at least.

“Just- anything that happens here. Aside from what I’ve already told you. It stays off the record,” Harry’s voice is strong, confident, like he’s making an order instead of a request. Louis finds he can’t argue with that.

“Yeah, I promise,” He agrees.

Harry nods and Louis’ not sure if it’s just an acknowledgement or a ‘thanks’. And then he’s crossing the room and holding out the bundle of clothes to Louis. “They’ll probably all be a bit big. Sorry.”

“It’s not a problem,” Louis replies. “Thanks for this.”

Harry doesn’t reply to the thanks, walking back to the door and grabbing the handle. He pauses and looks back. “Supper will be ready at seven,” and with that he leaves Louis alone, closing the door behind him.

Louis just sits there until the pressure in his chest gets to be too much and then he throws himself back on the bed (definitely better than Liam’s) and wallows in the sadness he’s allowed to flood through him. Looks like he’s really not getting to go home this Christmas.

*******

Louis calls his mum and tells her about his predicament. She’s sad but understands that circumstances are against him at the moment. They talk for a bit and then she calls Louis’ sisters to the phone and they all sing him Happy Birthday and tell him that they wish he could be there. He wishes he could, too.

When he gets off the phone with his family, he calls Liam because he’d had several missed calls from him while he was passed out and he knows Liam must be frantic with worry.

“Lou!” Liam answers on an exhale of relief.

“Hey, Li,” Louis says timidly. “Sorry to worry you. I’m fine by the way.”

“No shit,” Liam breathes and Louis can tell that he’s really irritated.

“Sorry,” Louis repeats. “I do actually have an excuse for not answering your calls.”

Louis pauses, and Liam apparently is too cross with him to remain patient. “Well? What is it?”

“Relax, mum,” Louis mutters.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Liam says, finally seeming to calm down a little. “But I’ve been home for _hours_ , Louis, with no clue where you had gone and there’s a bloody blizzard out if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I know,” Louis says apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t leave a note.”

“It’s fine,” Liam brushes it off. “Just tell me that you’re either nearly home or somewhere safe.”

“I am,” Louis rushes to reassure him. “Somewhere safe, that is. I’m actually at Harry Styles’ parents’ house.”

“What the hell are you doing there?” Liam asks but before Louis can answer Liam seems to come to the correct conclusion on his own. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me _that_ was your job, Louis? Papping Harry Styles?”

“Fine, I won’t tell you,” Louis mutters.

Liam laughs down the line and Louis can’t help wondering what’s so funny.

“I told you I could probably help you out if you’d just told me what the job was,” Liam’s still laughing and Louis doesn’t find it funny. “I’ve been friends with Harry longer than I’ve been friends with you.”

“Nobody likes a smart arse, Liam.”

“How’d you get in his house?” Liam asks.

“I, um, sort of passed out, after I stop his runaway snow plow.”

“That was you?”

“Apparently,” Louis answers, wondering what Liam’s heard about that. He’s not curious enough to voice the question though. “Anyway, Harry told me everything I needed when I woke up and I tried to leave but the blizzard was going really strong by then and Anne wouldn’t let me walk back to yours.”

“Well,” Liam says, still laughing a little. “Guess I’ll have to eat your cake by myself.”

“S’alright,” Louis declares only feeling a tiny bit bitter about it. “Take a picture for me first.”

“Will do, Tommo,” Liam agrees with a smile in his voice. “Happy Birthday, Louis.”

“Thanks, Li.”

 

After Liam, Louis calls Nick. Tells him what Harry told him about Gemma and Ed and how there’s absolutely nothing going on between the songwriter and Harry anymore.

“Ooooh, scandal,” Nick purrs, apparently choosing to ignore the last part of what Louis told him. “I bet there’s jealousy. Find out if there’s jealousy.”

“What?” Louis spits out incredulously. Seriously, does this man know no bounds? Well, considering it’s Nick, probably not. “No. I got what you wanted. The job is done.”

As usual, Nick gets whiny when someone isn’t giving him what he wants. “You’re stuck there anyway. It’s just a bit more footwork. C’mon, Louis. Pretty please? For me?”

Louis would bet money that Nick’s batting his lashes even though Louis isn’t there to see them. He sighs but he’s not giving in this time. He’s just seriously so _done_ with all of this. Harry’s words from their talk earlier float back to him. _The door has to close before the window can open. But you’re still standing in the doorway, blocking the way._ Maybe it’s time Louis gets out of his own way. Or at least gets Nick out of it.

“Not this time, Nick. The job is done now. Because I quit.”

“Wha-”

Louis hangs up before Nick can finish his squawk. And possibly talk him out of it.

A text comes through a few seconds later.

_‘call me when you change your mind.’_

Followed quickly by one more.

_‘and Happy Birthday.”_

Now the bastard says it. Louis rolls his eyes and texts back.

_‘Not going to happen.’_

_‘And thanks.’_

A few seconds after that Louis’ phone chirps with a text from Liam.

It’s a picture of a sparkly, purple cake.

*******

Harry’s chopping veggies for supper when he sees Louis pass by the doorway on the way to the family room and he nearly chops off the tip of his thumb.

“Fuck,” he curses quietly, when he slices his finger.

“Language!” His mother calls from somewhere upstairs.

Harry shakes his head with a grin and moves to run water over his thumb from the tap. Thankfully, it’s not a deep cut, it was just surprising seeing Louis in Harry’s too big clothes looking cuddly and soft. He’d lost concentration for a second.

He walks into the hallway with kitchen roll wrapped around his finger as he makes his way to the bathroom to look for a plaster.

Louis wanders out of the family room to follow him. “Are you alright?” He asks.

Now that Harry’s getting a closer look at Louis in his clothes, he’s certain was lucky he’d only gotten a glimpse before or he might have truly lost the whole finger. He swallows audibly and turns from the vision that is Louis Tomlinson. “Yeah,” he lies, voice cracking at the sudden dryness in his throat and low burn arousal that’s thrumming through his lower half. “Just cut myself a little.”

“Ouch,” Louis responds sympathetically. “Do you need help cleaning it up?”

“I’ve got it, thank you,” Harry answers, hoping that Louis will turn around and walk away. He doesn’t even know this man, but he can’t deny his attraction to him. He’d felt it when he’d first seen Louis, saving him out on the snow plow. Even when Louis was lying to him, he’d still felt this surge of want. An undeniable pull.

Louis continues to follow him, much to Harry’s dismay, as he walks into the bathroom and opens the cupboard. He pulls down the plasters and unwraps his finger, running it under the tap again before drying it off.

“Here. Let me,” Louis says, pushing his way into Harry’s space to clean the cut properly and put a healing cream on it. Then he wraps the plaster around it and finally kisses Harry’s thumb over the top of it.

Harry’s breath catches when Louis’ lips press against his thumb, arousal growing brighter.

Louis freezes after the kiss, like he’s just realized what he’s done and his eyes slowly rise to Harry’s. “Sorry,” he says in a near whisper. “I have four younger sisters. It’s a habit.”

Harry wonders if he bites through his lip trying to hold back the whine his throat is trying to let loose, if Louis would kiss that too.

“It’s alright,” Harry whispers back like whatever is going on between them right now might break if he speaks too loud.

They’re standing too close to each other and all Harry wants to do is close the distance. He hasn’t felt like doing that in a long time, getting closer to someone. He vaguely wonders why Louis would be the first. It’s not just because he’s the most beautiful man Harry’s ever seen. Maybe it’s because, when Harry caught him in a lie, he came clean. He didn’t try to twist his story to make Harry into the fool, and he didn’t lash out in anger. Harry thinks he trusts this man. Such a weird thing to trust someone who was originally sent to spy on him, but he does.

“Harry! The kitchen’s on fire!” Gemma calls from downstairs, breaking the moment. Just like Harry was afraid of.

“Only if _you_ tried cooking something!” Harry calls back, turning his head toward the door only long enough to call Gemma’s bluff. When he turns back Louis blinks rapidly and takes a careful step back.

“I’m hungry,” Gemma whines back. “Get down here and feed us!”

Harry snorts. “ _Sisters_ ,” he complains, grinning.

Louis awards him a small smirk in return. “Tell me about it.”

It feels comfortable teasing each other like this. Why does it feel so comfortable?

“You’d better get down there,” Louis warns. “If she’s anything like my sisters, she _will_ try to cook something if you don’t get there first.”

“Oh god,” Harry curses and rushes downstairs, a laughing Louis close on his heels.

*******

“So, Louis, what do you do for a living?” Anne questions over supper.

“Oh,” Louis fidgets a bit. Lie or tell the truth? He mentally shrugs to himself. What can the truth hurt? He doesn’t have anything to hide anymore.

Harry watches intently for Louis’ answer from his seat across from him.

“I’m actually currently unemployed,” Louis says, playing idly with his food while he talks. “I used to work for a gossip site but I hated the underhandedness of it all, so I quit recently.”

“Did you?” Harry asks, voice brimming with curiosity.

It could be a _did you really work for a gossip site?_ Or a _did you really hate it?_ But Harry already knows the answer to those questions if he was paying attention, so Louis takes it to mean the only possible option left. _Did you really quit?_

“Yeah,” Louis answers, hoping Harry can read the truth in his voice or his eyes or wherever just as long as he knows Louis’ not a threat to his privacy anymore.

Harry aims a bright smile down at the table and Louis feels a bit bereft that it’s not aimed a little higher, he still gets the feeling that Harry is proud _of him_ and that makes him feel indescribably good about himself.

“You know what they say,” Harry says finally raising that smile so that Louis is the lucky recipient, “the wind from one door closing opens a window.”

Louis chuckles, kicking Harry lightly under the table. “Yeah, I think I have heard that somewhere before.”

*******

It’s nice sitting down to a film with his family. It’s even nice with Ed who Harry has actually been getting along with really well with ever since his apology. But it’s especially nice with Louis.

Louis hasn’t even been in the house for a full day, he’s staying with virtual strangers, and yet, somehow, he’s made himself a place in their family, joking with Robin and chatting with Anne. Picking on Gemma and teasing Harry in a way that leaves his cheeks flushed and his libido begging. Harry doesn’t even know what he’s doing anymore, he just goes on instinct with Louis. And it always seems like the right thing to do.

Like when he’d thrown himself across the sofa, resting his head in Louis’ lap and relegating Gemma and Ed to sitting on the floor at the start of the film. Now, he’s got Louis’ fingers carding through his hair as The Santa Clause plays on the television. He closes his eyes and enjoys the sensation. He hasn’t had anyone do this for him since he cut his hair and he’s been missing it.

“Going to sleep on me, Styles?” Louis wonders quietly.

“No,” Harry hums opening his eyes to prove it.

“You can, if you’re tired,” Louis offers, fingernails skritching over his scalp.

Harry has a hard time holding back a moan. Louis’ fingers feel so good in his hair. He doesn’t let himself wonder where else they might feel good. “Thanks,” he whispers instead.

He’s tired after the film and he follows Louis upstairs when he says he’s going to call it a night.

They head into their separate rooms, glances lingering after one another before doors click shut gently.

Harry lies in bed, unable to sleep despite his fatigue. He’s about to give up, go back downstairs and watch another film to tire himself out when there’s a quiet knock on his door.

“Come in,” He calls, not bothering to get up but reaching to turn on his bedside lamp.

He’s expecting Gemma or his mum, not Louis. Definitely not Louis standing in his doorway shirtless and looking distressingly uncertain of himself.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Harry answers, sitting up. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” Louis answers, stepping into the room and sitting gingerly at the foot of Harry’s bed. “It’s always hard for me the day before Christmas. Usually it’s because of my sisters, but this year it’s because I’m not with them.”

Harry scoots down to the end of the bed to sit next to Louis, rubbing a hand over his back in a way that he hopes is comforting. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Louis smiles at him sadly.

“I’m the reason you’re here,” Harry reminds him. “Well, I guess Ed gets half the blame.”

Louis laughs and then groans a second later. “No, that was all my own stupidity,” Louis says, laying his head on Harry’s shoulder. “I should have quit my job instead of missing out on being with my family for Christmas. Nick has other minions he could have sent to do his dirty work.”

“I’m glad it was you. I bet none of the other minions are half as nice as you,” Harry murmurs letting his head rest on Louis’.

“Or as pretty,” Louis adds.

Harry laughs. “Or as pretty,” he agrees.

Louis pulls his head off of Harry’s shoulder and Harry turns to him.

“I’m kind of glad I’m here though,” Louis admits, eyes locked in a stare with Harry’s. “If I can’t be with my own family, I’m happy to spend the holidays with yours.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, swallowing harshly as Louis gets incrementally closer second by second. “They’re lovely.” He’s not even sure what he’s just said but it seems like the right response.

“ _You’re_ lovely,” Louis murmurs, just before Harry closes his eyes and their lips meet.

A spark of energy surges up Harry’s spine when Louis’ tongue licks at his bottom lip, shyly begging entrance. Harry tilts his head just right and opens his mouth for him, his own tongue meeting Louis’ when it dips inside.

Louis’ fingertips trace over Harry’s jawline as Harry raises a hand to tangle his fingers in Louis’ hair, the other grasping his hip with bruising strength. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt quite so needy before, little whines escaping his mouth any time they part for even the briefest of moments.

“This is crazy,” Harry murmurs into their kiss. It’s insane and fast, maybe too fast but he doesn’t care at the moment.

“Less talk, more kiss,” Louis murmurs nonsensically, too lost in the flavors of Harry’s mouth and the way his hands seem to tremble whenever Louis curls his tongue just right.

It’s only when Louis crawls into his lap that Harry comes to his senses. “Wait,” he says pulling back.

“What? What’s wrong?” Louis asks unprepared for the sudden pause.

“We just met today, Louis. And while I really like you, I want to get to know you before I sleep with you,” Harry tells him sincerely. “I mean, if that’s even where this was going. I don’t want to be presumptuous.”

“No, no,” Louis says sullenly, “I was planning on ripping your clothes off in about a minute. Good thing you stopped me.”

Dear lord, it’s even cute when he’s bitter. Harry wants to kiss him again.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Harry urges him, both hands on Louis’ hips to keep him from grinding down and putting a complete end to Harry’s self-control.

“I want you,” Louis tells him, sealing their lips together a second later until Harry’s pulls away again causing Louis to moan in disappointment.

“We’ll compromise,” Harry promises. “For every new thing you tell me, I’ll give you a kiss.”

“Mmm,” Louis hums with a raise of his eyebrows. “I like this compromise. But you have to tell me things, too.”

“Deal,” Harry agrees with a grin.

“I like carrots,” Louis states with a shit-eating grin before puckering his lips for his kiss.

“I think you know that’s cheating,” Harry scolds but presses their lips together anyway. An argument could be made that he hadn’t specified any rules.

Louis accepts the chaste kiss Harry gives him graciously, not asking for more and Harry thinks he wasn’t really expecting more.

“Your turn,” Louis urges, tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck to play with it while he waits.

“I love it when you do that,” Harry replies in answer, enjoying the tingles that run along the back of his neck from Louis’ ministrations.

Louis chuckles, working his fingers a little harder and making Harry’s eyelids flutter shut for a second. “I thought you were telling me things I _didn’t_ know.”

“Fine, I like the way you look in my clothes,” He grits out.

Louis smirks. “So do I.”

He bends and kisses Harry hungrily, devouring his mouth. When Harry pulls back, Louis elicits a little _‘huh-uh’_ and pulls him back in.

“But–” Harry attempts to argue against his lips.

“We both said something about ourselves,” Louis rebuts. “Two kisses.”

He dives back in and Harry doesn’t stop him this time. It should not be this easy to get lost in someone else, particularly someone you just met. Harry breaks away again, drawing in a deep breath and trying to give himself a moment to calm his thundering heart.

“So, you like carrots and the way you look in my clothes. What else?” He tries to direct Louis’ attention back to their game and away from his lips for a moment.

Louis whines, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. “I don’t know. What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Harry breathes. “All the deep shit.”

Louis laughs. “The deep shit. Alright, like what?”

Harry bites his lip and thinks for a second. “Oh, I know,” he chirps when he thinks of something to ask. “If the door you just closed opens a window, where do you want that window to lead?”

Louis lifts his head, eying Harry carefully. “Don’t laugh.”

“Why would I laugh?” Harry asks, brow scrunched in confusion and maybe a bit of hurt that Louis thinks he would make fun of him. Well. He might, but not about something important like the direction he wants his life to take.

Louis rolls his eyes, but takes a breath and finally answers. “ _Rolling Stone_.”

“The magazine?”

“No, I was hoping to join the band when Mick Jagger bites it.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Harry warns with narrowed eyes, squeezing Louis’ sides until he falls sideways off Harry’s lap trying to get away from his probing fingers, giggling madly when Harry tickles him again.

Eventually Harry stops his assault, letting Louis breathe. He lays down next to Louis, both of them on their backs, staring up at the ceiling as they each try to catch their breath, legs hanging off the bed so that their feet rest on the floor.

“So, like, if I were to give you an exclusive interview, what would you ask?” Harry wonders, turning his head to watch Louis’ profile.

“Well, this is all quite sudden, Mr. Styles,” Louis responds, pretending to be flustered. “You have to give a bloke some time to think about these things.”

“Two minutes, startiiiiing now!” Harry replies, looking at an invisible watch on his arm.

Louis laughs but a second later, he’s looking thoughtful, considering the question. “Ok, What’s your go-to song when the world feels like it’s collapsing around you? And I don’t mean a song with some clever lyrics that might make you smile or one that brings a tear to your eye because it’s so emotional. I mean one that it’s like a visceral reaction, your body starts thrumming with energy and you couldn’t shut it off if you tried. “

Harry stares, surprised by how good the question is, and it’s not one he’s been asked before either. You could probably tell a lot about a person based on their answer, because Louis didn’t say that it had to be happy or cause _positive_ energy. “Perfect Strangers,” Harry answers. “By Jonas Blue.”

“I’ve never heard of that,” Louis tells him, turning to look at him. “What’s it about?”

“Possibilities,” Harry answers, turning onto his side and snuggling closer to Louis. “Not having or needing a plan. Letting things happen without having to have a reason for them. And… I think it’s a little bit about me and you.”

“Romantic,” Louis teases, turning his body to face Harry’s. “Putting me in your answer.”

“Honestly, it could just be a song about a one-night stand, so I’m not sure how romantic it actually is.” Harry ducks his head, a little embarrassed about his choice. “But that’s not what it means to me. Which I think is why music is so great. It’s always open to interpretation.”

Louis raises a hand to Harry’s cheek, caressing his skin with his thumb. “I still think it’s romantic.”

Harry grins, that shy little thing he never aims at Louis when it first appears. “Good.”

Louis leans in and presses a kiss to Harry’s lips. It’s a nice one that makes a bit of a smacking noise when they part. “Can I sleep in here?”

Harry leans in and kisses him back. “Yeah.”

Together, they shuffle up the bed and snuggle under the covers, Harry reaching over to turn his lamp off.

“Can we spoon?” Louis asks.

“Of course. Do you want me to be the big spoon?”

“Actually, I’d like to if that’s alright,” Louis answers, cuddling in behind Harry’s back as Harry curls up on his side facing away from him, pushing one arm to rest under Harry’s pillow while the other circles his waist.

“I actually love being the little spoon,” Harry admits into the darkness.

“Then it seems we’re perfect for each other, Styles,” Louis smirks into his neck.

Quiet settles on the room and Harry closes his eyes but his mind won’t shut down quite yet.

“Louis?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a song like that? The one you asked me about that you have a visceral reaction to?”

“Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“’Welcome Home’ by a band called Coheed and Cambria.”

“What’s that about?”

“Not quite sure. It’s not the lyrics I listen to. It’s just really angry and that’s how I feel when my world starts crumbling. Also, there’s some pretty amazing guitar work.”

Harry furrows his brow in thought. “Do you get angry like that a lot?”

“Not really. I mean, I can lash out when I feel hurt but I’m basically just a loudmouth when I’m angry. Don’t really cause any harm I don’t think. Why do you ask?”

Harry squirms a little in Louis’ hold. “I’ve dealt with angry people in my past. People who said cruel things just to hurt me. I don’t want to go through that again. I don’t think I’d handle it well.”

“Harry,” Louis breathes, trying to urge Harry to turn over with his hands but Harry doesn’t feel like cooperating. Eventually, he gives up with a sigh. “Will you please look at me?”

Slowly, Harry turns over. His eyes have been open this whole time, so they’ve already adjusted to the darkness and he can make out the pleading look on Louis face perfectly well with just the moonlight shining in the window.

“Harry, I know we don’t know each other very well but I already know what kind of person you are. You’re not the spoiled little rich boy the media makes you out to be. You’re fiercely protective of your family,” Louis proclaims, reaching up to cup Harry’s jawline running his thumb over his cheek and smirking, “and kind to strangers when they prove themselves worthy.”

Harry smiles a little, looking at Louis through his lashes. Louis _did_ prove himself. He hasn’t done anything since Harry called him out on his bullshit to suggest he’s untrustworthy.

“All this I know after one day, so there has to be some things you’ve figured out about me as well, right?” Louis asks.

“You love your family, too,” Harry says in answer, “and you were really good at your job even though you hated it.”

“What else?” Louis presses.

Harry bites his lip, glancing up at Louis before looking away again. “You’re a really good kisser.”

Louis chuckles. “Likewise, babe,” he leans in to briefly kiss Harry’s lips again. “And?”

“And –” Harry hesitates, reaching up to circle a hand around Louis’ wrist where he’s still cupping his cheek. “And I trust you.”

Louis smiles at Harry, and there’s relief in the way he captures Harry’s mouth again, like he was afraid this was something he might lose, like he’s _invested_.

Harry wants to just kiss Louis, to let himself just fall into whatever this is that’s happening, but between every erratic beat of his heart, there’s panic, fear, caution. And it forces him to pull back. “It’s not that easy Louis,” he whispers between them.

“Why not?” Louis practically begs and it tugs at something in Harry’s chest. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve trusted the wrong people before,” Harry explains. “I trusted someone with my heart and they ripped it out, Louis. And then they used it for target practice.”

Louis’ thumb swipes at Harry’s cheek again and it’s only then that Harry realizes his cheeks are wet. Quite suddenly, the imploring gaze of Louis’ eyes turns cold.

“We’re talking about Ed, aren’t we?” His tone is hard and his hand falls from Harry’s face, balling into a fist before he hides it under the covers.

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry shakes his head. “What I’m trying to say is that while I do trust you, I don’t know if I can trust _myself_ , Louis.”

“Sweetheart,” Louis addresses him, losing his stony expression of a moment ago and searching out Harry’s hands until he has them both gripped in his own. “I don’t know what he did to you, but I swear to you, I’d never hurt you just for the sake of it. I can’t guarantee that I’ll never say or do anything wrong. In fact, I’ll probably fuck up quite a bit, but I would never, _ever_ purposely do it to hurt you.”

Harry sniffs, gripping Louis’ hands tightly. “ _God_ , Louis. Are you gonna propose to me, next?” He asks, the wetness of his eyes contradicting the impish grin he wears. But Louis seems to know that Harry’s just trying to lighten the mood so he responds to the joke instead of Harry’s obvious emotional response, rolling his eyes and pulling his pillow out to whack Harry over the head with it, making Harry giggle as he pushes it away.

“I’m being serious here,” He grumbles, but Harry can see the affection in his eyes as clear as day, even in the dark.

“I know,” Harry says, sobering again slowly. “I know you are.”

Maybe it’s silly Harry feeling so absolutely safe in the arms of this near-stranger, but when Louis pushes his pillow back under his head and opens his arms to Harry, allowing the man to cuddle into him, that’s exactly how he feels. _Safe. Protected. Invincible._

*******

“Wake up, sleepyheads,” Gemma calls quietly, leaning over her brother’s sleeping form and tickling his face with her finger.

He swats at her, just missing when she pulls her hand away, and settles back down again.

Gemma stifles a chuckle in her hand before reaching for him again, tickling his ear this time.

He swats again, sniffling and turning his head to face the other direction.

“Oh my god,” Gemma whispers through another laugh and reaches for him again.

“If you do it again, I’m going to tell mum that you’re the one who set the kitchen on fire when you were eighteen.”

So, apparently, Harry isn’t quite as asleep as she thought. She crosses her arms and stares down at him, disappointed she wasn’t able to annoy him a bit more.

“You have to admit, blaming it on you teaching yourself to cook _was_ quite brilliant.”

Harry’s lips quirk into a grin but his eyes remain closed. “I still don’t think she believed you, even when I agreed to take the blame.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

Harry’s eyes finally crack open and he glares at Gemma like she’s missing something. “I taught myself to cook when I was _twelve_.”

 _Oh_. Considering Harry was fourteen at the time, maybe that wasn’t as brilliant as she’d thought it was. Oh well, their mother had allowed them to get away with it so she’s probably not too torn up about it. It was only a small fire anyway.

“Well, tell her what you like,” Gemma says, smirk growing on her face as she speaks. “She sent me to wake up you and our guest. Little did she know just how easy that would be, with you being right next to each other and all.”

Harry knows that Gemma’s only teasing but he still feels a rush of panic that has his eyes flying open, they seek out Louis’ still-sleeping face and just as suddenly as the panic had risen, it recedes. Louis looks so sweet, peaceful as he breathes on the pillow next to Harry. Harry finds himself smiling, remembering the night before, and he can’t be sorry that Louis is there, even if his mother might not approve of how quickly things have been moving.

“Oh for goodness sake, little brother,” Gemma scolds, exasperation and fondness mingling and wrapping themselves around her words. “You’re gone on him already, aren’t you?”

“No,” Harry answers, frowning at her but he can’t seem to hold onto it when he looks back at Louis again. “Maybe.” A little whine escapes his throat and he pulls the duvet up over his head in embarrassment. “Yes,” comes out muffled beneath the fabric.

Gemma can’t help smiling. It’s kind of nice to see Harry like this. Gemma knows he’s been lonely for a while. As protective as she feels over her brother, she also wants him to be happy, so she’s having hard time deciding what to do in this situation. “Well, in any case, you’d better wake up before mum comes looking for you. Breakfast is ready, and then we’ll be opening presents!” She sings the last part, choosing to just go with it for now. She’ll interrogate Louis later about his intentions for Harry.

“Okay,” Harry mumbles, still hiding under the covers.

Gemma turns with a chuckle and leaves Harry to wake Louis as she goes back downstairs.

When her mother tries to go upstairs to check on them two minutes later, Gemma distracts her, buying them a little more time. It is Christmas, after all.

*******

“Louis.”

Louis feels himself being gently shaken by a warm hand, the sweetest, deepest voice calling his name. His eyes flutter open and there’s an angel staring back at him. Beautiful green eyes shining down on him and perfect pink lips drawn into a smile.

“It’s time to wake up,” the angel tells him.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?” Louis asks sleepily, reaching out to touch. His fingers brush over those smiling lips and they purse to kiss his fingertips before twisting into a smirk.

“Well, we _do_ have pancakes.”

“Ooh,” Louis rumbles interestedly. “This _must_ be heaven then. There’s no other possible place to get _pancakes_.”

Harry laughs, smacking him playfully. “Shut up.”

“Are you allowed to say ‘shut up’ in heaven?” Louis wonders, pinching Harry in the side.

“Ow,” Harry laughs. “You’re definitely not allowed to pinch!”

“Oh, pardon me, pretty angel,” Louis says, withdrawing his hands and letting them fall to his sides. “I haven’t learned the rules yet.”

“Ignorance is no excuse,” Harry tells him with faux sternness, leaning in and kissing his mouth softly. “Rule number one, get up and get dressed before my mum comes looking for us and finds us together, in my bed.”

Louis knows he should focus on the part about Harry’s mother, but those words _together, in my bed_ coming out of Harry’s mouth is more arousing than it should be considering they already are together, in his bed. Louis gets lost on that train of thought until Harry’s smacking him lightly on the shoulder.

“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”

“Sorry, spaced out for a second,” Louis blinks away the inappropriate thoughts and focuses on the present again. Like the fact that Harry is out of bed, joggers slung low on his hips while he pulls on a red and green jumper with a hideous reindeer on the front. Louis thinks it’s criminal that Harry can make that awful thing look so bloody good.

“Here,” Harry hands Louis another jumper and he’s a little scared to unfold it and see what’s on his.

“Um,” he says staring down at the knitted fabric in his hands before glancing back up at the deer on Harry’s chest. “I think I’ll be good in the t-shirt you gave me yesterday.”

Harry laughs and pulls the jumper from Louis’ hands, unfolding it and showing Louis that there’s nothing on it. It’s just a red jumper with no monstrosities sewn onto the front. Louis exhales in relief, noting that Harry looks a little too gleeful about his reaction.

“You planned that,” Louis accuses, taking the jumper back and pulling it over his head. He can already feel his hair sticking up in all different directions, probably making him look even more disgruntled than the pout he’s faking makes him look.

Harry laughs again, looking impossibly endeared as he climbs back onto the bed. “You look impossibly cute when you pout like that. Maybe I should play tricks on you more often.”

“Only if you’re prepared for payback, Styles,” Louis warns with a raised brow.

“Bring it on,” Harry challenges, ducking in to kiss the pout from Louis’ lips. “Breakfast is going cold. We should get downstairs.”

“Yeah, alright,” He says, pulling Harry back to press another peck to his lips. “I’ll follow you in a minute.”

“Okay,” Harry says, biting his bottom lip as he smiles when he’s finally released from Louis’ clutches.

Louis throws himself back on the bed when Harry disappears out the door. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing with Harry. They’re talking like whatever they’re doing is long term. And, truthfully, Louis loves that. He really likes Harry, could definitely see them having a future together. But it’s been a _day_ and he’s afraid of getting his hopes up. He has baggage just like Harry does and he knows what it’s like to think something is going well only to have it abruptly crash and burn.

“Fuck. What am I doing?” He mumbles to himself running his hands over his face. He wonders if he should stop this now, distance himself from Harry and avoid getting hurt when the world reawakens and they’re not stuck together in this beautiful house building something that may not be durable enough to last when it’s not confined in a snow globe. But then Louis thinks back on last night. How it could have been awful, spending his birthday and Christmas Eve without his family but wasn’t. It was actually probably the best birthday he could have had outside of getting to go home. All because of Harry. And Harry didn’t end it just because he got scared last night. So, Louis decides, pulling himself from the warmth of Harry’s bed, that he owes Harry the same courtesy.  Besides, he doesn’t even think he could walk away from Harry if he wanted to and, if he’s honest with himself, he really doesn’t.

*******

After breakfast, everyone disperses to their rooms. It’s a Christmas tradition that not all the gifts make it under the tree until just before they’re opened. Because some members of Harry’s family (Gemma) are sneaky little buggers and they’ll sneak a peek at their gifts if they can.

As Harry’s reaching for the top shelf in the walk-in wardrobe to pull down a few of Gemma’s gifts (the small, unimportant ones went directly under the tree), his phone rings on the bedside table. He carefully lowers the gifts, sitting them on his bed and walking over to answer his phone.

“Hello?”

“Happy Christmas, Harry!” Liam cheers into the phone.

“Happy Christmas, Liam,” Harry smiles.

*******

Louis sits on the sofa, alone, staring at the fire that’s going as he sips at his tea. He doesn’t exactly know what’s going on with the Styles/Twist clan but they’d all said they’d be back in a few minutes as they’d scampered off so Louis is waiting patiently. If he were at home, he’d be manic, telling his family to hurry up and get in their places so that they could start opening presents, but Louis doesn’t have any gifts to give or receive here, so there’s not really anything to be all that excited about. He’s content to sit and watch though. Maybe curl into Harry’s side if he’s allowed.

Ed sits in the armchair to the left of the sofa with his own cup of tea. Louis hasn’t paid him much attention up until now. But when Ed addresses him, Louis turns an icy gaze on him.

“Pardon?” Louis asks, polite but not pleasant by any means.

“Um,” Ed seems surprised and unnerved by Louis’ response to him.

Good. Louis still isn’t sure what happened when Harry and Ed were together but he’s certain it was Ed he was talking about last night when he mentioned getting hurt in a previous relationship. There may also be some jealousy mixed in with the protectiveness he feels over Harry. Ed was his boyfriend once, and as much as Louis wants to hold that position, the fact remains that he doesn’t. Not yet.

“I was just making small talk. Trying to pass the time,” Ed says, shifting his eyes to look elsewhere, like he’s afraid if he lets Louis catch his gaze, he might be turned to stone or something.

“Hmm.” Louis smirks into his tea. He is the master of ‘I can kill you with my brain’ glares even if he’s not quite as powerful as he pretends to be.

The room goes silent until Harry comes thundering down the stairs, arms full of boxes, bags hanging from his fingertips.

Louis sets his tea down and jumps up to help, grabbing a couple of boxes from Harry’s arms before he can topple them over.

“Thanks,” Harry smiles at him, walking by Ed without a single glance in his direction and placing the gifts under the tree.

Louis feels extra smug about getting Harry’s attention when Ed got none even though it’s entirely childish. And it only grows when Harry follows him back to the sofa to fall down next to him, their arms pressed together because he leaves no space between them.

“I don’t know why Gemma hides gifts,” Harry murmurs into his ear. “ _She’s_ the one we’re hiding them from.”

Louis’ giggles are cut off when Gemma comes downstairs with three small gifts in her hands and tosses them under the tree before collapsing into Ed’s lap. Ed lets out an ‘oomph’ when Gemma lands and she smacks his shoulder. “Oi! Are you trying to tell me I’m fat?” She asks with a wicked grin.

“Well, I was trying to be subtle about it,” Ed says with a straight face and Louis feels Harry tense at his side until Gemma gasps with an incredulous laugh and smacks him again.

“You bastard!”

(“Language!”)

Ed laughs and pulls Gemma in by the back of her neck, kissing her lips sweetly. “You know I could never think that,” he says quietly but his voice carries.

Harry relaxes as Gemma kisses Ed again, looking away with pink cheeks. He catches Louis staring at him and ducks his head.

“Hey,” Louis whispers, slipping his hand into Harry’s and holding tight. “Everything alright?”

Harry nods, voice eventually catching up with the bobbing of his head. “Yeah.”

Louis doesn’t believe him but doesn’t say anything, instead just holding his hand until Anne and Robin come back down the stairs and Harry shyly pulls his hand away, glancing at Louis apologetically. Louis smiles, letting Harry know he understands. His parents probably won’t be as open to accepting their son getting close to a strange man so soon after welcoming him into their home as Harry is.

As soon as everyone is seated, soft Christmas music playing as ambient noise from a radio in the kitchen, Anne starts passing out gifts. Louis watches with just a smidge of envy while everyone else has a slowly growing pile in front of them. Even Ed has a small bundle of gifts, four or five. But then, Anne places one in front of Louis and he doesn’t know what to think.

“What-?”

“You didn’t think we’d leave you out on Christmas, did you?” Harry asks, leaning in close.

Louis looks at him, eyes wide with wonder. “How did you-? You couldn’t have gone shopping or anything, not with the snow outside.”

Harry shrugs enigmatically, not revealing anything. He smirks when another gift is added to Louis’ pile.

Louis might, maybe, feel like crying. Just a little. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from doing so, surreptitiously wiping at his eyes every now and again when it feels like he might be failing. He didn’t know it was possible to feel so at home without his family.

“Okay,” Anne says, clapping her hands together once she’s finished. “Who’s first?”

Ed raises a hand and Louis has a vague moment to think that as an answer, it’s a bit formal, but then Ed’s saying “Actually, I have a gift, I’d like to give first, if that’s alright?”

Anne and Robin beam at him like proud parents and Harry tenses up again as Ed slides out of his chair and knee-walks over to kneel in front of Gemma.

Louis can hear Gemma and Harry gasp in unison as Ed pulls a ring box out of his pocket, feels Harry grasp his hand again. Too tight to be from excitement.

“Gemma,” Ed starts. “We both know that my past is a dark place, riddled with mistakes and sins that I’ll never be able to make up for.”

Louis thinks he sees Ed glance toward Harry but he’s too busy focusing on the death grip currently making his fingers go numb.

“But when I needed it most, you pulled me out of the dark. You rescued me from myself and gave me a reason to put as much distance between myself and that past as I possibly could. And now, here I am, thinking about my future, and I can’t even imagine it without you in it. So, Gemma Anne Styles, will you marry me?”

Gemma’s happy squeal of “yes!” is drowned out by the loud, vehement “No!” that’s torn out of Harry.

All eyes turn to him, alarmed at his sudden outburst.

Harry rips his hand away from Louis’ as he stands. “Gemma, you can’t marry him.”

“What?” Gemma cries, a look of betrayal on her face. “Harry, you said that you’d give him a chance.”

“I said I’d try, and I have,” he yells looking just as broken as his sister. “But accepting that you’re dating him isn’t quite the same as realizing that you’re gonna be spending the rest of your life with him. Gemma, this is where it starts,” Harry says beseechingly. “He didn’t get mean until we moved in together. _That_ was when he changed. And I can’t stand the idea of you being hurt like that.”

Louis risks a glance at Ed and sees that he’s fallen back so that he’s sitting on his heels, just listening to Harry tear into his character and not disputing a word of it. Louis almost feels sorry for him but how can he now that he knows what happened between him and Harry.

Gemma swipes angrily at a tear on her cheek. “I told you he’d changed, Harry.”

She looks like she’s planning to say more but Harry interrupts. “But you can’t know that until you’ve lived with him, Gems…”

“I already do!” She yells, and Harry abruptly freezes, staring at her. So she keeps going, eyes on the floor. “I’ve been living with him for the past six months.”

Harry’s head drops and Louis hears him sniffle. “You never told me,” he whispers, heartbroken. There are tears in his eyes when he raises his head again. “What else haven’t you told me?”

“Nothing,” Gemma answers, looking rather ashamed. “I swear.”

Harry covers his mouth to muffle the hurt sound that’s clawing its way out of his throat and Louis desperately wants to reach for him but isn’t sure if it would be welcomed.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers, not looking at anyone. “I’m sorry for ruining your happy moment. And, Ed, I’m sorry for ruining your proposal. I’m just- I need some air. I’m sorry,” Harry says, rushing from the room.

Louis watches him go and stands to follow him but he’s stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Let me,” Gemma orders, pushing past before Louis can protest and hurrying after her brother.

*******

Harry’s fiddling around in the kitchen, pulling out cake pans, a mixing bowl, a wooden spoon and a whisk when Gemma finds him.

“Thought you’d barricaded yourself in your room,” she says leaning against the doorjamb.

Harry’s silent at first, flitting around the kitchen, gathering ingredients, and Gemma thinks that he’s just going to ignore her.

“Harry.” It’s just his name, but the way her voice breaks when she says it conveys that it’s also a plea.

“I have too much to do for that,” Harry murmurs, still not looking at her. He picks up a clean dish towel and swipes at his eyes before throwing it away from his cooking supplies to rest on the far corner of the counter.

Gemma watches Harry for a moment in silence, confusion marring her features. “Are you baking me a cake right now?”

Harry snorts. “It’s not for you.”

“But you _are_ baking a cake?” Gemma presses.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, cracking an egg against the side of the mixing bowl and dropping it in, neatly pouring the yolk from the shell and tossing the shell in the rubbish.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure I should tell you,” He says, glaring down into the bowl, “since we’re keeping secrets now.”

“I know I should have told you,” she says for maybe the thousandth time, not really knowing what else to say.

“I’m getting a little tired of hearing that,” he says, pouring some milk into a measuring cup, concentrating so that he gets it just right.

He’s right, she knows. He already knows what she _should_ have done. What she _didn’t_ do. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

His eyes close and he sits down the milk and cup in his hand, obviously trying to keep himself calm. “Two days, Gemma,” He says finally, opening his eyes and giving her the most pitiful stare she’s ever seen. “I had _two days_ to get used to the idea that my sister, my best friend in the world, is dating my ex who treated me like absolute shit. And now, you’re living with him. You’re gonna marry him. Do you maybe see how that could be hard for me?”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” she agrees quietly. Honestly, she hadn’t taken the time to think about that, but then she’s only been kind of engaged for a few minutes. “But you have to believe me, I didn’t know he was going to propose. And I’m sorry, okay? I swear, I don’t have any more secrets, Harry. Really. I didn’t mean to keep things from you but it’s _Ed_. And I know he hurt you and I promise that I will _never_ let that happen again, love, but as much as I didn’t want you to get hurt, I didn’t want him to get hurt either. I love you both so much. Can you understand that?”

“If you’d told me, maybe I wouldn’t have ruined your engagement,” Harry murmurs, scrubbing at his hair with one hand and leaning on the counter with the other. “I’m sorry I didn’t react well. I just- I can see that Ed’s changed but the parts of me that he hurt are still putting up a fight, Gems.”

“I’m sorry, too, that I didn’t give you more time. And it’s okay,” Gemma says with an understanding look. “It was my own fault so I can’t really blame you. You were just trying to protect me,” she gives Harry a half-grin, testing the waters. He smiles back. It’s small but it’s there. “And anyway, you let him get to the good part so it’s all good.

Harry laughs shortly like he’s doing it despite himself but then he’s opening his arms and meeting Gemma half-way when she moves to throw herself into them. “As long as he makes you happy, I have no objections,” he tells her and her heart feels full to bursting with just how much she loves him.

“Thanks, baby bro,” Gemma says, squeezing him tightly.

“Um, hi,” Ed says from the doorway of the kitchen, shuffling his feet and looking unsure of himself just like yesterday when he first arrived. “Your parents are wondering if you’re coming back.”

Gemma pulls herself from Harry’s arms and turns to him, seeming to wait for his response before giving her own.

“Um, in a few minutes,” Harry answers looking at the cooking supplies he’s set out. “Ten at the most.”

Ed nods. “I’ll tell them.”

“Ed,” Harry calls before he can turn away. He looks at his sister and then moves across the few steps that separate him and Ed. “I’m sorry,” Harry says, wrapping his arms around Ed’s shoulders. Ed’s arms immediately circling his waist in response.

“Me too,” Ed tells him quietly.

“Be good to her,” Harry whispers.

“Always,” Ed promises, giving Harry’s waist a squeeze before pulling out of the embrace.

Harry smiles at them as Ed takes Gemma’s hand to lead her back to the family room.

“Hey, guys?” Harry calls before they get too far and they both turn to look at him.  “Do me a favor,” he grins mischievously. “Keep Louis out of the kitchen.”

*******

Louis settles back onto the sofa a few minutes later. He’d gone up to the guest room to call his family while waiting for Harry to come back from his breakdown after Ed’s proposal to Gemma. Originally, he’d been hoping to find Harry in his room and maybe try to offer him comfort of some kind, but Harry hadn’t been there so Louis had ducked into the guest room to call his mum and sisters to keep his mind off of the distraught look on Harry’s face before he’d run off. He feels a little better now, getting to talk to each of his sisters for a moment and then finally his mum, wishing them all a happy holiday and telling them he’d stop in as soon as he could. His mum’s been watching the weather and it looks like it might clear up enough that he can catch a train home on the twenty-eighth.

“Hey, Louis,” Gemma says, sitting down next to him. “Sorry you had to witness all that family drama.”

“It’s fine. Nothing I’m not used to. I do have four sisters of my own,” He tells Gemma, glancing toward the door. “Is Harry coming back?”

“Oh yeah, he’ll be here in a few minutes,” she assures him with a grin. It’s not exactly a friendly grin but Louis can’t quite pinpoint why. It makes him uneasy. “Speaking of my brother,” Gemma adds with faux nonchalance and Louis thinks _oh, is this what it feels like to be on the other side of this conversation?_

“What are your intentions, Louis?” Gemma asks staring at him without blinking.

“I honestly don’t know,” Louis answers as truthfully as he can. “We haven’t talked about it yet. I really like him though and I’d like to eventually ask him to be my boyfriend if it’s in the cards.”

“Do you always sleep with your boyfriends _before_ the first date?” Gemma asks, looking at her nails.

Louis tenses, glances around, and relaxes when he doesn’t see Anne or Robin around. “Not usually. And that’s exactly what we did, by the way. _Sleep_.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did more than that,” Gemma tells him with a wink. Okay. He wasn’t expecting _that._ “And just so you know,” she leans forward, hand to the side of mouth like she’s sharing a secret, “Harry’s terrible at cards.”

“It’s okay,” Louis laughs mirroring her pose and whispering back, “I’m a fantastic card player.”

 Gemma smirks at him and Louis feels accomplished because he seems to have her approval. Until her face abruptly goes stony. “If you hurt him, they’ll never find the body.”

Before Louis can even process that, Gemma is smiling charmingly again and patting his knee before she extricates herself from the couch.

Ed replaces her when she moves on, staring after her like a love-struck fool.

“She’s scary,” Louis tells him.

“Yeah,” Ed grins like it’s something to be proud of. Perhaps in some ways it is, but Louis’ pants aren’t so sure.

“Excuse me,” Louis says rising from the sofa to run to the loo really quickly.

*******

It takes longer than it should to get everyone settled back into the family room, presents still in their piles, Gemma now wearing her engagement ring.

“Should we try this again?” Anne asks with a nervous laugh from where she’s sitting on the floor in front of her husband.

“Open mine,” Gemma tells Anne, picking up her gift from Anne’s pile and handing it to her, getting things started easily this time.

They go in a circle and when it gets to Louis he picks up his first gift (he has three in all) and unwraps a record. _Too-Rye-Ay._   Dexys Midnight Runners.

“Um,” Louis’ forehead goes all crinkly. “Thank you?”

“There’s a story to it,” Harry says, bumping his shoulder to Louis’. “See, I originally got it for Gemma’s boyfriend because I have this intrinsic need to make sure that everyone I know has good taste in music.”

“Filthy hipster,” Gemma teases from Ed’s lap.

Harry ignores her. “Of course, when I bought it I had no idea that her boyfriend was my ex,” he says with a glare in her direction. “So, he already has it. Or did anyway.”

“I still do,” Ed says quietly and Harry smiles at him.

“I mean, that’s nice and all,” Louis cuts in, “but I don’t have a record player.”

Harry simply smirks. “You will.”

And Louis’ heartbeat picks up at the promise in Harry’s tone. Like it’s a goal to work toward in the future, buying Louis a record player together, or maybe he’s planning to share his own. Fuck. Louis is in way over his head and kind of loving it.

When it’s his turn again, Harry guides him to his biggest gift. It’s kind of heavy and Louis has his suspicions before he’s even got the paper off. And sure enough, it’s a Crosley Cruiser Portable Turntable.

“Harry,” Louis breathes. “It’s beautiful but, I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”

“It wasn’t actually that much,” Harry argues, “and I want you to have it.”

Louis reluctantly accepts the gift and can’t stop staring down at it as everyone else takes their turn. Now that he’s got the record player, his earlier fantasy has changed to Harry taking him out record shopping. The two of them holding hands as they walk to the record store, maybe stopping for ice cream on the way.

A beeping breaks into his thoughts and Harry jumps up with an “I’ll be right back!”

He comes back a few minutes later smelling like warm baked goods and Louis wants to kiss him. He wants to hold his hand and cuddle into his side and not have to worry about whether what he’s feeling is too much too soon. He wants to date him and introduce him to his family and maybe marry him just a little. Or a lot. He’s just so beautiful and kind and good and Louis doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone quite like him before nor will he again.

Louis ignores his impulses for the moment, trying to be interested in Anne opening an angel figurine that Ed got her or Robin opening a book that Gemma bought.

Louis opens his last gift and it’s a hand written coupon book from Gemma with coupons that say things like _Good for one gossip session (about my brother)_ and _Get out of jail free card (figuratively. I won’t pay your bail but I will forgive you should you ever piss me off)._

“Gemma!” Harry cries when he sees what’s written on them.

“What?” She asks innocently.

Harry just tilts his head at her and glares.

“I regret nothing,” she informs him, turning up her nose. “Now, open something or I’m skipping you to open one of my own.”

After all the gifts are open, Harry disappears into the kitchen again and Louis wonders what he’s cooking that needs that much attention.

They have sandwiches for lunch, all crowding around the television again for another film and Harry throws his arm around Louis’ shoulders about halfway though. It earns them a thoughtful look from Anne but she doesn’t seem to disapprove so Louis will take it.

Christmas dinner is a lovely, happy affair, all of the tension from earlier in the day long dissipated.

After dinner, Harry tells everyone to stay seated for dessert and that he’ll be right out with it. And then he comes out with a fucking cake lit up with candles and he’s singing to Louis all by himself for a few seconds before everyone else joins in. Louis can’t help thinking that he has a lovely singing voice even though he already knew that.

He stops in front of Louis and places the cake down. “Make a wish,” he whispers.

Louis wishes he could have him, that Harry would be his and his alone. Maybe forever. Later he’ll feel guilty for not wishing he was with his family but with Harry, it kind of feels like he already is. So, Louis makes his wish and blows out the candles to the cheers of Harry’s family.

“How did you know?” Louis asks as Harry cuts him a slice of cake.

“Liam called me this morning. Told me it was yesterday,” Harry says, dimple sitting deep in his cheek. “I didn’t know you knew each other.”

“Er, yeah,” Louis answers. “He’s the friend I was staying with.”

“Small world,” Harry hums with a grin as he cuts cake for everyone else, passing them around the table one slice at a time.

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Harry wonders, licking a bit of icing off his thumb as he sets his own piece on a plate, placing the knife on the tray with the leftover.

“It didn’t seem important compared to everything else going on,” Louis shrugs, taking a bite. It may be the best damn cake he’s ever eaten.

Harry looks at him. “I’m sorry you had to spend it here instead of with your family.”

“Don’t be,” Louis tells him. “As far as birthdays go, it still managed to make it into the top three.”

Harry grins down at his plate, picking up his fork and taking a bite with his lips still spread in a smile.

All in all, this Christmas is going much the same route, Louis thinks.

*******

As predicted, the snow stops falling around midnight that night, long after Louis’ snuck into Harry’s room and kissed him senseless. His lips kiss-swollen and more red than pink, by the time they decide to break for air.

“I think I can make it home by the twenty-eighth if the weather reports are right,” Louis says, head rested on Harry’s chest, finger drawing shapes into his skin.

Harry feels a pang of something shoot through his chest. Dread maybe. Fear. He’s not sure but he knows he doesn’t like the idea of Louis leaving.

“That’s great,” he says, trying to concentrate on being happy for Louis. He’s been without his family all this time. _Of course_ he wants to go home to them. And it’s not like Harry can stay here forever either.

It takes Harry a second to realize that Louis’ finger is no longer moving and he feels a little stiff in Harry’s arms.

“Is something wrong?” Harry asks, running his fingers up and down Louis’ bicep tenderly.

“No,” Louis says. “Just- Do you want to come with me?” He asks so fast Harry isn’t sure he heard him right.

“What?”

Louis takes a breath and seems to force himself to slow down. “Do you want to come with me?”

“You want me to meet your family?” Harry asks, face blank in shock but in his chest, his heart is soaring.

“Forget it,” Louis says at the look on his face. “It’s stupid.”

“No!” Harry argues. “It’s not stupid. Not at all, Louis. I was just surprised.”

“Because it’s too fast, right?” Louis asks and looks so fearful of Harry’s answer.

“No,” Harry shakes his head. “I mean, everything we’ve been doing is fast, I think, but none of it feels wrong. At least, not to me.”

“Really?” Louis asks, a hopeful gleam to his eyes.

“Really,” Harry says with a smile. “You’ve met my parents, why shouldn’t I meet yours?”

Louis kisses him in response and then just doesn’t stop until they’re falling asleep with their lips still connected.

*******

On the twenty-eighth, Harry says goodbye to his parents, hugging them and promising to come home again for his birthday. He hugs Gemma and even Ed, and then he packs his bags in his car. The roads still aren’t in the greatest condition but Liam has done his job, clearing them as best he can given the situation and he’s already brought Louis’ bag from his own house. And his shoes.

Louis looks startled when Anne wraps him up in a hug as well and doesn’t ask about his supposedly abandoned car. She does whisper something in his ear but he wears a smile on his face the whole way to the train station so Harry isn’t too worried. When he finally can’t fight his curiosity anymore, Harry asks Louis what she said.

“She just told me to take care of you,” He answers, taking Harry’s hand as they make their way to the train that’s headed to Doncaster and Louis’ family and what Harry feels is an impossibly bright future.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this. I really hope you liked it.


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